


A Christmas Curse

by DLanaDHZ



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison, Depictions of Death, Druid Stiles Stilinski, Groundhog Day, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-18 10:10:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13097892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLanaDHZ/pseuds/DLanaDHZ
Summary: Today is Christmas Eve - the day Derek is going to tell Stiles he loves him. Today is the worst day of Derek's life - the day Stiles dies. Today is the day that keeps on repeating, and Derek doesn't know why. But he's determined to find a way to fix it and save Stiles in the process.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [A Christmas Curse [Traducción]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15207161) by [loveforever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveforever/pseuds/loveforever)



> Usually I wait until I've finished a fic before posting to ensure a steady update process but I wanted to at least start posting this fic before Christmas Eve. Hopefully I can finish it in time to post the last chapter on Christmas or the day after. Wish me luck ^_^

Today was the worst day of Derek Hale’s life.

 

At seven a.m., his alarm clock buzzed and chimed, waking him up. He pushed himself up from how he’d fallen asleep – face first in the pillow, too tired to roll back over – and tapped the dismiss button. He stretched and popped his muscles, and took a deep, steady breath of the crisp morning air sneaking in through his partially cracked window.

 

Today was Christmas Eve, and Derek had a full day planned.

 

First he had his morning jog. Then he had an appointment at the sheriff station to fix the engine of one of their cruisers that had barely made it back, if the deputy’s story was to be believed. After that he had to run, probably literally, to the strip mall to pick up some last minute Christmas gifts that he’d ordered last week. Lunch came next, and he needed the gifts before then – because lunch was with Stiles.

 

Derek carefully looked through his closet for what to wear to lunch. He’d pack it in a bag to change into after work. A smile crept onto his face as he spotted his blue muscle shirt. It wasn’t his favorite, personally, but Stiles said it brought out the blue of Derek’s wolf eyes. He also said it made Derek look ‘fricking hot, okay?’ so that also gave it points.

 

Blue it was.

 

Lunch with Stiles wasn’t strange. They did it at least once a week now that Stiles was out of high school – sometimes twice. Technically Stiles didn’t live at home anymore, but he came back most weekends to spend with his dad, and he always managed to squeeze in Derek too. He saw Scott at school, so the two of them didn’t hang out so much back home anymore, both preferring to visit with the people they saw less of. For Scott it was his mom, Isaac, and Allison. For Stiles it was apparently his dad and Derek.

 

But today was special, Derek reasoned. Today was Christmas Eve. The whole group planned to get together for Christmas dinner at the McCall house, but today it was just Derek and Stiles for lunch… and Derek had a gift for Stiles that he didn’t want to present in front of anyone else.

 

At the thought of the gift waiting behind some counter in the mall, Derek’s gut twisted uncomfortably. He really hoped Stiles liked it, because it was giving Derek painful nerves imagining all the ways Stiles could not like it.

 

He could scrunch his nose up and narrow his eyes and ask Derek if he’d gotten the wrong idea about their relationship. He could ask why Derek thought he’d even wear something like it to begin with, much less something from Derek. Or maybe he’d thank Derek with his wide smile and talk about how cool it was. Maybe he’d put it on immediately and invite Derek over to the Stilinski house while the Sheriff was gone with the premise of watching a bunch of Christmas movies.

 

Yeah, Derek hoped he could follow Stiles around the afternoon for more than a few reasons.

 

After folding his outfit up and setting it in his bag, he pulled on his jogging clothes and headed downstairs, taking the stairs two at a time. The rest of the condo complex was quiet, and no one stopped him as slipped out the lobby doors and across the parking lot. There was a walking trail that started pretty close to the condo, not coincidentally since the Hales owned both the building and the nature preserve that butted up against it, and Derek followed it for a quarter of a mile at a slow pace until he was sure he was out of sight of the main road. Then he broke into a run, faster than any normal human, and cleared the next mile two minutes.

 

He made a wide circle around the preserve, then ran back home, slowing to a brisk jog as he neared the edge of the trees. When he broke the tree line, he slowed further, confusion furrowing his brow. Something smelled like –

 

A smile crept, unbidden, to his lips – small but present. Stiles was in the parking lot, waiting at the corner of the building so he could see when Derek came back. Or that was probably the plan. He was distracted, staring at a game on his phone, when Derek stepped onto the asphalt.

 

“Hey,” he greeted.

 

“Ha-?!” Stiles jumped, almost dropping his phone, and flinched into the wall so that he bumped his head. He groaned and rubbed it as he looked fully at Derek. “Hey, give a man some warning, will ya? I’m not too fond of giving myself a concussion.” His game made a honk kind of noise and he groaned again, gripping it with both hands. “Awww man! And I lost the raid too! Not a great start to the day, Derek. Not a great start. I’m getting hints from the universe that it’s not going to be a good day.”

 

He bit his lip and bounced from foot to foot, staring intently at his screen as he backed out of the game. Derek didn’t like the sound of that either. It was Christmas Eve, and he had a gift to give Stiles later. He didn’t like bad omens or feelings on a day like today.

 

“Why are you here, Stiles?” he asked, trying to ignore his growing unease.

 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Stiles switched over to his email on his phone, glancing up at Derek every so often as he scrolled through. “I get too excited during the holidays.”

 

“Yeah, I remember last year.” Derek motioned toward the door and they headed in. “You bought and made enough food for half the block because you thought you didn’t have enough to feed three werewolves after knowing them for how many years?”

 

“Hey now – just remember who got the praise when we donated all the extra to the food bank.”

 

“Maybe. But I don’t remember you being unable to sleep and driving halfway across town to haunt my building being a symptom of your usual holiday excitement.” For Stiles’ convenience, Derek called the elevator. Beside him, Stiles’ heart hammered, and the scent coming off him was curiously nervous in nature. “Is everything okay?”

 

“Huh? Wha- I mean, yeah. Of course. I’ve got all the presents wrapped. The house is decorated. The food is prepped.” He paused to consider if he was forgetting anything and the concentration slowed his pulse back to normal. “Yeah, no. I think I’ve got everything done. Yeah. Guess I’m just nervous, waiting in anticipation to see if everyone likes their gifts this year, you know?”

 

Did he ever.

 

“Yeah.” Wow. After knowing Stiles for five years, you’d think Derek would have gotten smoother at conversations, but he defaulted back to grunts too often to be considered sociable. Attempt 2. “I’m sure your gifts are fine. Everyone liked them… last year?”

 

Last year Stiles’ gift was fine for Scott, but it came with a pop up card full of penis shaped glitter. Ms. McCall was not impressed. His gift for his dad was a year’s subscription to a healthy meal delivery program. The sheriff proudly thanked him but it was obvious he wasn’t really excited about it.  And Derek’s gift had been a salmon ladder, which was actually really cool, but he’d sort of suggested Derek was letting his physique go at the same time Derek opened it. He’d then cussed a few times and tried to salvage the conversation. It kind of worked.

 

“Hey. Derek?” Stiles began, rocking slightly on his heels. His heart rate was slowly climbing again.

 

The elevator dinged.

 

“Actually, you know what?” He stepped back from the opening doors. “I just remembered I need to check on one last thing before tomorrow. Yeah. We’re still doing lunch, right? I’ll see you for lunch.”

 

“See you later.” Derek gave a half wave, his brow creased in curiosity. Something definitely had Stiles nervous about Christmas, but Derek couldn’t think of what. Derek was nervous because he was making kind of a huge statement today with his Christmas gift, but Stiles-

 

No. Stiles couldn’t be nervous over his gift to Derek. That would be far too coincidental.

\-- -- -- --

 

There was something about working with his hands that pleased the wolf side of Derek. Fixing cars was something he already had an interest in, since he liked to keep his own car primed like it was going into a contest… or needed for a getaway vehicle. Transferring that interest into a job was fun for him, even if he sometimes had to see how terrible other people were at taking care of their cars. At least he was self-employed and didn’t have to take every call he got.

 

The police were always on his answer list, though, and not just because Stiles’ father was the sheriff. There was also a hell hound working there, and the rest of the department wasn’t too bad at helping out during tough spots either.

 

Speaking of hell hounds, he could smell the one in question when Parrish stepped outside.

 

“Hey, Derek. What’s the prognosis?” he asked, all casual friendliness, as usual.

 

“She’ll survive. I’m almost done. But when you said she barely made it back in, did you mean to leave out the part where you explained how it was you driving and it was probably your fault the engine almost exploded?”

 

Deputy Parrish shrugged sheepishly. “The rest of the department still gets skiddish when you mention anything out of the ordinary. I didn’t think ‘hell hound overheated’ looked good on the report. And I was in the middle of the precinct when I called you.”

 

“Alright. Well next time,” Derek paused to grunt as he tightened a bolt with his bare hand instead of a wrench, “try to overheat _outside_ the car, instead of sending it all to the engine, alright? Then you won’t have to push it home or pay me to fix it on Christmas Eve.”

 

“Ha! I’ll keep that in mind.” He folded his arms loosely over his chest and grinned. “So I hear you’re going to the McCall house again for Christmas. I managed an invite this year too. I’m bringing bacon wrapped hot dogs.”

 

“It would be polite to ignore the irony in that, right?” Derek asked.

 

Parrish laughed. “I guess it’s sort of on purpose, but it’s also one of the only party dishes I know how to make. Anyway, do I need to be aware of any special traditions or anything? I don’t want to screw anything up.”

 

Derek wiped a cloth over the newly installed engine parts, unearthing the silver color from the soot still infecting most of the metal. “Stiles hides mistletoe around the house, and everyone backs him up on keeping people accountable for it. So I’d avoid walking beside someone unless you’re okay with kissing them.”

 

“Yikes. Alright. Thanks for the warning.”

 

“Dinner starts around six, but everyone shows up by four. Presents are exchanged after dinner so we don’t have to worry about gifts getting messed up or distracting us from the food. Other than that, it’s not anymore hectic than the group usually is, so you’ll be fine.” Derek pushed back from the car and turned to look at his comrade. “The sheriff could have told you all of that. Why ask me?”

 

Another shrug lifted Parrish’s shoulders. “He seems kind of distracted today. He invited me but then he got a phone call, and ever since, he’s been… I don’t know. Distracted is the only word for it.”

 

“What was the call?” Was there some new mysterious creature in town? Did they need to send out the welcoming committee? Or dispense a warning?

 

“Nothing supernatural. My hearing isn’t as good as yours, but it sounded familial.” The door to the precinct opened then and they both turned to see the subject of their discussion heading their way. “Well I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for the intel.”

 

Parrish waved at the sheriff as they passed while Derek turned back to the cruiser. He dropped the hood of the cruiser and it shut with a satisfying snap – not enough to hurt the vehicle but enough to make Derek feel a little cool inside. He wiped his hands on the towel hanging from his back pocket and nodded to nothing in particular.

 

“All done out here?” The sheriff walked over, face and voice serious like they always were when he was at work. So not a personal visit like with Parrish, then.

 

“All done, Sheriff,” Derek agreed and motioned to the car. “Good as new. And you can always call me back if it isn’t. You know where I live.”

 

“And how to keep you there,” the older man said, mostly as a jest. Derek let out a laugh but he knew full well that the sheriff carried a packet of mountain ash on his belt now. The sheriff sighed and motioned for Derek to take a seat with him on a bench nearby. So maybe this would be a personal visit? “On a serious note, though. I hear you’re meeting up with Stiles for lunch. Just-… no matter what garbage comes out of his mouth, ‘cause you know how he can rant when he’s nervous – just hear him out and be nice, alright?”

 

“I can’t say I follow, but I always hear Stiles out,” Derek said. Then he shrugged. “Anyway, I’m hoping he hears me out today too, so it’s only fair.”

 

The sheriff chuckled and pat Derek’s knee. “You’ve matured pretty great since your brush with death, Derek. I could get used to it.” He sighed then and smiled honestly. “Now go get washed up. You don’t got a lot of time before your lunch date.”

 

Derek did as he was told and decidedly did not get his hopes up over the casual word ‘date’ thrown in by Stiles’ dad of all people. But he did get his hopes and anxieties up over the sheriff’s request. First Stiles was antsy that morning, and now his father was asking Derek to be nice? What could Stiles possibly have to tell him that Derek would get that upset about? The only thing that came to mind would be if Stiles had accidentally released some big bad spirit in town again. They’d had five years of peace, so Derek might be upset if Stiles ruined that – sure. But why all the tip-toeing around?

\-- -- --

 

He had to run through the mall to grab his gifts if he wanted to make lunch on time. But luck was on his side, and he was in and out in under ten minutes with his special order. Then he was in his new Camaro and driving to meet Stiles at his favorite place to grab a bite – Arby’s.

 

He walked in right on time and was surprised to not see Stiles already in line or sitting down with food. It wasn’t common, but he probably just got caught up in some traffic. Derek took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and smiled.

 

Nope. Stiles was in the building. He was in the bathroom. Derek walked toward it and paused when he was just within hearing distance. Concentrating to hear over the sound of the restaurant, he could just make out Stiles’ heartbeat. Strangely, it was even more erratic than that morning. Why was Stiles so anxious? He was going to give himself a panic attack.

 

Unless he was already having one.

 

Derek finished walking up to the door and knocked on it. Stiles jumped inside. “Stiles? You okay in there?”

 

“Oh my GOD.” Even with Stiles exclaiming, Derek wouldn’t have heard that without his werewolf hearing. “I’m- I’ll be out in a second. Jesus. You gave me a heart attack! Just go order or something.”

 

“Okay.” He knocked once more just in case Stiles couldn’t fully hear him. Then he moved away. At least Stiles wasn’t full on panicking.

 

Derek ordered both of their meals and paid for them and was already sitting down when Stiles finally exited the restroom. He spotted Derek immediately and walked over, smiling down at the food.

 

“Hey, thanks,” he said as he slid into the booth. “I didn’t mean for you to buy mine too.”

 

“You seem a little on edge today. I wanted to take at least this off your plate.” He chewed on one of his own fries and watched how Stiles tried to shrink.

 

“Ah. I forgot you can smell the chemo-signals.” He shoved three curly fries in his mouth at once to give himself a moment before he started explaining himself. “Sorry. I’m just… I guess it’s just that I’ve never done this and I don’t want to screw it up.”

 

“Done what?” What about this Christmas Eve was different than all the previous ones?

 

“Look.” Stiles punctuated that word by eating another fry, and another, and another, and talked through them as he continued to rant and chew at the same time. “I know I talk a big game, right? But I’m still new to this and I did tons of research last night on the best way to do it but there’s not a lot of reference for someone like me and someone like you and I just don’t want to screw it up. Cause you’re like alpha material and leader of the pack even though Scott’s the actual alpha and leader of the pack and whatever, you’re still cooler, you know? And you’ve got experience. I don’t have any experience. You’ve had like three or something, right? All tragic, I know, but you’ve had them. I almost had one. Just one. Just an almost. I just don’t want to ruin everything, you know?”

 

“I somehow understood everything you just said, but no, I don’t know.” Derek reached across the table, brow knit in concern, and grabbed Stiles’ hand before he could continue shoveling fries into his mouth. “Stiles, what’s wrong? Unless you’ve unleashed some sort of apocalypse creature, I promise you haven’t ruined anything.”

 

Stiles swallowed thickly, all the remaining fries going down at once, but he didn’t even flinch about it. His hand was hot under Derek’s, and that was saying something. Slowly, he turned his hand over until they were palm to palm and he lightly curled his fingers around Derek’s hand.

 

“I-” But then he faltered to a stop and got stuck staring at their hands.

 

Derek sighed. “Okay, look.” He pulled his hand back and Stiles frowned. “I also wanted to tell you something. So I’ll go first and maybe that’ll help you relax a little.”

 

“O-Okay.” Stiles’ eyes were still on his now empty hand, so he didn’t see Derek pull the tiny box from his jacket pocket. His eyes narrowed when the box was slipped into his waiting palm and closed his fingers around it. “What is this?”

 

“Your Christmas present. I wanted you to have it before the party tomorrow.” Derek slipped his own hands into his pockets and leaned back, heart rate picking up a bit. Now he was the nervous one. “I don’t think I could’ve given it to you in front of the others.”

 

Curiosity overwhelmed Stiles’ nerves and he quickly undid the string holding the box shut. It was a blue jewelry box, that much was obvious from the outside, and when he pulled the lid up he found a bracelet inside. Half of it was a solid piece while the other half was tight chain link. On the solid piece, there was an engraving, but it wasn’t in English.

 

“Wow. What does it say?” Stiles carefully pulled the item from the box and held it up to catch the light.

 

“It’s a druid enchantment. The bracelet is pure silver, and with the enchantment on it, you can sort of use the bracelet like a stun gun on mythical creatures.” Derek explained. He leaned forward and pointed to the word on the bracelet – cosantóir. “It’s pronounced koss-un-tor. Say that while you’re wearing it, and it’s like charging the stun. It’ll only last for a second, and I’m not suggesting it’s foolproof, but it should be enough to help divert a few things.”

 

“Bro.” Stiles was almost breathless. “How- How much did this cost?” He lowered the bracelet and finally looked at Derek with wonder. “No seriously. This probably cost way too much. Why did you get this for me?”

 

Nerves picking up again, Derek shrugged and leaned away. “We’ve been monster free for a few years now, but you’re still the only human in the pack that regularly gets into those types of fights. I thought this could give us all some piece of mind. I wanted you to be able to protect yourself in case I- I mean, in case the rest of us aren’t there to do it for you.”

 

He was trying to play it off, make it sound less like he was trying to be Stiles’ personal guardian. But that was kind of how it really was. He wouldn’t always be around Stiles and what if the next time a rogue, killer werewolf showed up was one of those times? It would also give Stiles some defense if any of the wolves he personally knew got possessed or gave into the moon too.

 

“I love you.” Stiles said it so fast that Derek almost didn’t have time to process it. The paler man turned a noticeable shade of pink.  His eyes were dilated too much for the interior lighting, but he didn’t look away. Although he did lick his lips. Distractingly.

 

“I’m-,” Derek hesitated. His chest felt tight. “I’m glad you like it.”

 

“No, idiot.” Stiles shook his head and clipped the bracelet around his wrist. Then his deep brown eyes were set defiantly on Derek once more. Derek could hear his pulse racing. “I said I love you. God, I’ve been psyching myself up all day to tell you and you think I’m talking about the gift?” He threw his hands out toward Derek across the table. “I love you.”

 

Every time those words left Stiles’ mouth, Derek’s chest felt like someone was carving away at it and releasing him from ice. The third time he heard them, he felt everything break free. A smile tugged at his lips, but he was afraid to hope for what those words meant.

 

“I thought-“ He frowned. “What about Lydia?”

 

“What about-?” Stiles tossed his arms in the air and groaned. “I’m going to assume you’re asking about my sexuality since Lydia’s been in a relationship for over a year now and is annoyingly in love.” He pointed dramatically at Derek. “It’s called bisexuality, Derek. I liked Lydia. That was a long time ago. Now I love you. God, this is the worst confession ever.”

 

Stiles dropped his head onto the table, encircling it with his arms, and let out a loud and long groan. Derek didn’t wait for him to finish. He was up and sliding in beside Stiles before the sound finished, and Stiles startled when their bodies touched.

 

“Der-?”

 

“Say it again,” he said. His whole chest was pounding. The blood in his veins felt like it was trying to float.

 

Swallowing thickly again, Stiles looked right into Derek’s eyes. “I. Love. You.”

 

Maybe Stiles really meant it. Maybe he meant it the same way Derek did whenever he whispered it in his mind as he watched Stiles drive away, or when he saw Stiles engrossed in research, or whenever Stiles got too excited and told you way more than you needed to know about a subject. It sure sounded like he meant it the same way.

 

“I love you too,” he said, much quieter, and leaned in for a kiss.

 

Stiles grinned just before leaning over to shorten the distance. The kiss was brief and sweet and then Stiles was giggling and pulling back. He ran both hands up into his hair and held on.

 

“Oh my god,” he said, his voice almost sounding hysterical. “I can’t believe that happened. I mean, I totally thought this was going to end with me having to tell you I could hold it in and it wouldn’t ruin what we had and beg you not to treat me like the person who took your smiles too personally and made things awkward. But you- You said it back.”

 

“Because it’s true.” Derek slipped his hand over one of Stiles’ and pulled it down from his hair. “Please don’t have a panic attack.”

 

“Panic Attack?!” Stiles exclaimed and then glanced around to see a few heads turn in his direction. He waited until they had looked away again before continuing in a softer voice. “I’m not having a panic attack. I’m over the moon!  And you better believe I’m taking this bracelet as your confession too, ‘cause I’m gonna show it off all over the party tomorrow and tell everyone I’ve got the hottest, coolest werewolf boyfriend with the most awesome car.” He frowned for a moment and his knee started to bounce under the table. “Erm – I mean, are we dating now? Can we be dating now?”

 

With a chuckle, Derek pulled Stiles close to him and tucked him under his chin, successfully stopping the knee bouncing. “Yes. We can date now.”

 

Bless Christmas Eve. Derek had not expected this when he’d woken up that morning, and it was the best possible thing to happen. He hadn’t felt so good since… since probably before the fire. He squeezed Stiles tighter and got a strong hug in return.

 

“Best. Christmas Gift. Ever,” Stiles declared into Derek’s chest. That got another chuckle to rumble through Derek, and based on Stiles’ chemo-signals, he really liked that. Good. Because Derek did too.

\-- -- --

 

“So now that we’re dating, you wanna go see a movie?” Stiles asked.

 

Derek agreed, since not much else would be open in the late afternoon on Christmas Eve. They’d driven separate cars to Arby’s, so they agreed to meet at the theater. But then they ended up standing in the parking lot for awhile, doing that stupid thing people do in movies where neither wanted to leave first. You go. No, you go. No, you go. How dumb was that? And yet there they were, doing just that.

 

“We’re going to the same place, Stiles. We’ll see each other in a few minutes. You go. Pick out the movie. I’ll meet you at the ticket window.” Not that Derek wanted to stop being with Stiles either, but he knew how stupid it sounded to want to never go to the movies just so they could stay next to each other the whole time.

 

With a dramatic sigh, Stiles conceded. “Fine. But you better not go anywhere else, got it? Straight to the theater. And no speeding. I don’t need a deputy pulling you over before our first date.”

 

Then he was hopping up into the jeep. Derek watched him turn the ignition over and back out of his parking spot. He didn’t even move until the jeep pulled clear of the lot and was out on the main road. Only then did Derek pop open his car door and slide in, a ridiculous smile on his face.

 

After the holidays, he’d take Stiles on a full date, but they could start with just the movies. Derek shrugged out of his leather jacket because, despite the outdoor weather, his car would be quite warm. While the heater got started, Derek changed the radio station until he found his favorite alternative station. Then he put the car in reverse and headed out toward the theater.

 

The movie theater was a good ten minutes across town, which gave Derek plenty of time to think. Stiles said he loved Derek – which was a pretty bold statement from someone who’d known Derek back when he was moody and dark and pretty much hated everyone. He’d been fueled by anger and revenge back then. Now he was past all that. He could understand someone liking him now, but for Stiles to love him? They used to always be at odds with each other. It had been a slow road to friendship and trust, but that’s what had made Derek fall for Stiles, so maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised that it worked the other way around too.

 

After Christmas, Derek could take Stiles out to his favorite restaurants outside of Beacon Hills. They could go out by themselves, not with the group, and- Ah, Derek could touch him now. Stiles was a fully legal adult, and they were in love. Derek could caress his face if he wanted to. He could pull Stiles close and plant kisses on each of his moles. He could finally get Stiles to show a little skin, because for some reason he always hid himself behind all those layers and Derek wouldn’t deny wanting to see what was underneath. Like badly.

 

Maybe after the party tomorrow, they could- No. That would be moving too fast, even for someone with ‘experience’, as Stiles had said. Derek would just go with the flow and let everything develop organically. Whatever happened, he would go at Stiles’ pace.

 

He was drumming his fingers along with the music and imagining being in the theater, in the dark, with Stiles, when he spotted the wreck blocking the intersection. First he got the slightest hint of aggravation, thinking about how he’d have to detour around it and take longer getting to the movie. But that faded fast. All floating, magnificent feelings fled from him as dread took over, and he immediately stopped his car and got out.

 

“Stiles?” he asked, too far from the wreck to be heard.

 

In the middle of the intersection was Stiles’ jeep, t-boned by a black truck. Glass shards were everywhere in the street, and two people on the sidewalk were already on their phones calling for help. But the truck had hit- There wouldn’t be time for an ambulance!

 

“Stiles!” he shouted, running up to the wreckage, panic clouding every other logical response. The driver’s side was crushed. It was crushed! But Stiles!

 

Derek gripped the front of the truck, not sparing a glance for the driver, and pulled hard to dislodge it from the jeep. It creaked and moaned and finally gave way, sloppily bouncing back to the asphalt. Derek grabbed for the door handle to the jeep but it was gone. Chest heaving, eyes stinging, he pulled the whole mess of a door off and tossed it behind him, not caring if anyone saw him.

 

But none of it mattered. Because Stiles was gone. Derek wished he could say ‘gone’ as in ‘missing’, as in ‘not in the car’, but that was a lie. Stiles was there. Stiles was there, slumped over toward the passenger seat, and he was a mess of blood and crushed pieces and – DAMN IT.

 

Derek wrenched back and shouted something. He wasn’t sure what. The image of Stiles’s crushed body was burned into his retinas even when he looked away to the sound of sirens.

 

“No,” he gasped. No, not on Christmas Eve. Not right after they’d- This wasn’t right. This had to be some trick. An illusion?  But it looked like Stiles. It smelled like Stiles. It was wearing the bracelet like Stiles, the metal glinting in the sun where Stiles’ hand had landed on the dashboard when his jeep bent. God damn it. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did. “No.”

 

Paramedics swarmed the scene, pushing Derek back, but he already knew the truth. There was no heartbeat. He couldn’t hear a thing. Even the bite wouldn’t save Stiles from this. He was just-

 

“Stiles?”

 

Oh God. Derek turned and saw the Sheriff had arrived on scene.

 

“Stiles!”

 

Derek covered his ears and couldn’t watch the anguish that rapidly covered the old man’s face as he realized what Derek already knew. He couldn’t listen to the pain and the pleading. It was too much. It was too much!

 

‘I. Love. You.’ He could still hear those words so clearly, and he tried to hear them now, spoken over and over to block out the sounds of the disaster in front of him.

 

“I love you,” he murmured, breathless. It hurt more than Paige. It hurt more because it wasn’t some supernatural creature that had taken Stiles out in a blaze of glory or a brutal fight for humanity. It was an ordinary, plain, accidental car wreck! And there was still nothing Derek could do about it!

 

When he opened his eyes, he saw more officers were there, trying to keep the sheriff calm, but it wasn’t doing much.

 

‘Cause you’re like alpha material.’

 

He wasn’t an alpha, but Stiles was right. He could be one in spirit. Gritting his teeth and forcing his own grief aside, he went to the sheriff and pulled him back from the wreck without much issue. The sheriff turned to punch him or pry himself free or both, but he froze when he saw who had his arm.

 

“Hale,” he said, his voice broken. “Could you-? Could Scott-“

 

“He’s gone,” Derek managed to whisper. He shook his head and the finality of the words broke the sheriff in two. He dropped to the asphalt, numb, and Derek moved with him. “He’s gone.” That time, his own words sounded broken. He stared at the shards of glass on the black asphalt and felt himself beginning to shake. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, but he could barely hear them himself.

 

For all of a moment, Stiles’ heart had been his. Now his heart was no one’s. Now Derek’s heart felt hollow. For a moment, everything had been perfect. Now everything was ruined.

 

Beside him, the sheriff took off his jacket and began to sob.

\-- -- -- --

 

His loft was silent and cold when he got home. The night had crept in like a fog, and Derek couldn’t find it in himself to care. The group had gathered at the hospital after Melissa had seen who was in the ambulance and managed to call them. Derek couldn’t do it. The Sheriff certainly couldn’t. There had been lots of tears. Lots of pleading. As though asking Derek to say it again would make anything change.

 

In a way, it was a relief to finally be alone in his home. There were no prying eyes here. There were no questions. There was no one he needed to be strong for.

 

Sluggishly, he walked to his bed and dropped onto the edge of it. The first tears streamed down his face before he consciously knew they were there, but then he couldn’t make them stop. Just like all his friends at the hospital, he wept, and there was no one there to be his anchor through it.

 

Stiles was gone. And this time he wouldn’t come home. Derek cursed his stupid Christmas gift and smacked his alarm clock off the side table, shattering it against the wall. That bracelet could help against the supernatural but what good did it do against cars? None, that’s what!

 

Exhaustion pulled him down to rest his head on the pillow and he took deep, wet breaths until he could feel his heart slowing. How had the day started so normal, grown to be so great, and ended so horrifically? How was that possible?

 

All he could think about was Stiles, crushed in his car, and that silver bracelet catching the light. “Cosantóir,” he whispered into the dark. “Cosantóir.”

 

He said it again and again, trying and failing not to over think everything. And when sleep finally managed to steal him, he was still trying to convince himself that he could have saved Stiles. He could have stopped it all. But he knew that was a lie.

 

Today had been the worst day of his life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the desire sparks in you, you may draw art, write a mini-spin-off fic, translate this into another language, or read it as a podfic. My only conditions are that you give me credit for the original, link back to the original work, and comment with a link to wherever said fanwork is located so I can see it and leave my appreciation in return. Thanks!


	2. Day 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the tags suggest - this will have a happy ending. Just lots of drama beforehand. :)

Today was the worst day of Derek Hale’s life.

 

At seven a.m., his alarm clock buzzed and chimed, waking him up. Slowly, hatefully, he pushed himself up from how he’d fallen asleep – face first in the pillow– and tapped the dismiss button. Regretting his own consciousness, he stretched and popped his muscles, and took a deep, steady breath of the crisp morning air sneaking in through his partially cracked window.

 

Stiles had died yesterday. The grief hit him like a new wave and he glared at his alarm clock before burying his face back in the pillow. He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t care if it was Christmas.

 

Wait.

 

Derek pushed himself slowly back up and looked carefully at his alarm clock. Hadn’t he… destroyed it the night before? He distinctly remembered shattering it against the wall. He looked around the floor but there wasn’t a single shard of debris, and his clock was clearly working just fine.

 

Caution seeped quickly into Derek’s tired brain and he slid himself out of bed to check the loft for intruders. He didn’t smell anything out of the ordinary, but he still wanted to check. After a thorough sweep, he determined he was alone and that nothing was out of place. Strange.

 

Trying to relax, he rolled his shoulders and meandered back toward his bed. His plan for the day was simple – wallow in misery for a few hours and then maybe go to the McCall house for probably the most wake-like holiday party ever. Maybe. Or he’d brood some more.

 

He passed his full length mirror and probably would have kept walking except he actually glanced at himself. He was wearing his white pajama pants and no top. But that wasn’t right. He’d fallen asleep in the blue top Stiles liked and his jeans. How-?

 

Nervously, he went to the closet and looked through the clothes. There. His blue shirt was hung up just as it had been the day before. First his clock and now his shirt? What was going on? Derek pulled out his phone, seriously considering calling Scott despite the grim state he was undoubtedly in, and froze.

 

His lock screen stared up at him, a photo of the whole pack in the background with the date and time blocking some people out. But that couldn’t be right. The date said December twenty-fourth. That was yesterday. That was the day Stiles died. Now his phone was messed up too.

 

He brought up a text for his sister and quickly typed out “What is today’s date?” before sending it. He didn’t want to give himself time to reconsider asking or to get his hopes up. It was Christmas. He knew it was Christmas. He couldn’t explain his clothes or his clock, but clearly his phone was just glitching. It was Christmas.

 

His phone buzzed with a response. “Christmas Eve, obvs. You feeling ok?”

 

“Fine. Thanks.”

 

Derek closed the phone screen and began to pace. How was it possible? The answer was that it wasn’t. It wasn’t possible. Had he dreamt the entire previous day? If so, he’d never had such a vivid dream before. Or such a vivid nightmare.

 

But- if he’d dreamt it, then that meant-

 

He clicked his phone on and saw Stiles’ face barely escaping the time. Opening the phone, he brought up Stiles’ number and hesitated with his finger over the call button. But what if he hadn’t dreamt it? What if the call rang and rang and never got picked up?

 

Quickly, he locked the phone and shoved it in his pocket. No. He couldn’t face that possibility. If it really was yesterday all over again, then Stiles was fine. He knew where to find him – assuming his dream was to be believed.

 

With shaking hands, Derek dressed himself in his jeans and blue top and took the elevator instead of the stairs. If Stiles didn’t show up in the parking lot, it didn’t necessarily mean anything. If yesterday had all been a dream, Stiles could be anywhere. If yesterday was real, then Stiles was nowhere. Either way, he’d be right back where he started.

 

The air was crisp and cold, but not cold enough for snow, and Derek concentrated on his goosebumps to keep from over thinking what it meant if Stiles did show up. He didn’t have to wait long in curiosity, though. It was only ten minutes before he could hear the sound of the jeep coming down the street.

 

His heart jumped to his throat and he stared intently at the entrance to the lot. A moment later, that familiar blue piece of junk cruised into view and parked a few spaces down from Derek’s own car. Derek couldn’t breathe. Stiles popped the door open and slid sloppily out until his feet found purchase again. At first he didn’t notice Derek, but when he did he seemed surprised.

 

“Hey,” he greeted, slamming his door shut and strolling casually over. “Whatcha doin’?”

 

“What?” Derek’s voice sounded like a gasp, because he couldn’t believe Stiles was standing there.

 

Stiles smiled a little nervously before deciding to smirk. He motioned to Derek and his ensemble. “Dude, I mean why are you standing outside in a t-shirt and jeans when it’s cold enough to see your breath? Did you get possessed? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He held his hands up defensively. “Wait, please don’t tell me you did, though. If ghosts are real, I think I’d like to skip this one.”

 

“You’re okay,” Derek said, relief finally winning over shock. He closed the distance between them and pulled Stiles into a tight embrace. The other let out a sound of shock but otherwise didn’t reject it. Derek let his hands roam over Stiles’ back, feeling the solid, unharmed firmness of his muscles and bones. When he hit the lower back, Stiles jolted and pulled away.

 

“Wow!” he said, face flushed. “What- What is going on right now? I’ve changed my mind. Are you in heat or something? Dude. I’m-“

 

“I had a dream,” Derek said, trying to compose himself. “You-… You didn’t make it. Sorry.”

 

“Nah. That’s- I’m glad it was just a dream.” He still looked flustered. “Were you… ahem. Were you going for a run? I won’t stop you.”

 

“I’m not going for a run.” Not anymore. He wanted to soak up as much of Stiles as he could. “I was gonna go to the mall. Did you want to come?”

 

“Huh? Sure. I mean, it’ll be a mad house by ten, but let’s do it. What are you looking for?” Stiles was already heading for the camaro and Derek smiled at that.

 

“Not looking for anything. I put in an order last week and it came in. Just gotta go pick it up.” Even if Stiles had wanted to drive himself, Derek wouldn’t have let him. Not after that terrible dream. He was going to keep Stiles as close as possible all day.

\-- -- --

 

On the way to the mall, Stiles played with the radio, eventually stopping on one that usually played a good mix of new and old songs but for the entire month of December was dedicated strictly to Christmas music. At first, Stiles hummed or mouthed words, but then he was whisper singing, then normal singing, and by the time they reached the mall he was belting out Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas’ like it was his personal anthem.

 

Derek managed to hold back from straight out laughing, but it was a struggle when Stiles hit the high notes and dramatically slapped Derek on the shoulder. And he couldn’t help but grin whenever Stiles sang “All I want for Christmas is you, baby!” while using his phone as a mic and pointing at Derek. Of course, he also pointed at random people they drove past, but it still felt good to be the first pick.

 

They parked after a beautiful rendition by Stiles of ‘Frosty the Snowman’, which Derek politely let play out before turning off the engine. Then they strolled into the mall, surrounded by hundreds of last minute shoppers.

 

“So my dad invited Parrish to the dinner tomorrow night,” Stiles said, bouncing slightly as he walked, still high from his energetic singing. “Don’t tell him about the mistletoe, cause I’m gonna hang some probably in front of every bathroom and also in the rafters by the couch, and everyone else is going to end up sitting two feet from each other, but Parrish doesn’t know any better and I want to see who he accidentally catches. I’m really hoping for Argent or Jackson. Preferably Jackson, because I think we can all agree that Mr. Argent is too attractive for his age and ex-profession.”

 

“We’re here,” Derek announced when they reached the jewelry shop and cleared his throat. “And, yeah, I guess. If you like older men. My perception of him is a bit biased since his family hunted mine for years, but sure.”

 

Stiles nodded, glancing around at the displays. “Well I might be one of the few people he’s never threatened, so I don’t have that problem. Also yeah. I uh-“ He paused and cleared his own throat, his heart rate suddenly growing a bit nervous. “I think it’s safe to say I like older guys. I mean, maybe not that old,” he amended, holding up a hand toward Derek and looking like he’d been caught saying something disgusting. “But you know, like, older? Than me?”

 

Derek smiled, warmth blooming in his chest and stomach. “I think I follow,” he said, his mind on the dream from last night. But it was just a dream. Stiles had not confessed today. Still, it sounded like he might. He did just accidentally on purpose admit to being bisexual again.

 

If anything, Derek understanding seemed to make Stiles more anxious, but he smiled in return so Derek pretended not to notice. He went to the counter and spoke with the saleswoman, who disappeared into the back and then brought out a small blue box. When she opened it, Derek felt both pleased and nervous. The bracelet and its box were identical to his dream, but they were also perfect.

 

Thanking her, Derek took the box and looked at it closer. Stiles slid up beside him and stood on his toes to get a better angle for peering over.

 

“Pretty. So, uh, who’s it for?” he asked. He tried to sound uninterested, but everything about him screamed his interest – from his posture to his heart rate.

 

“Honestly? You.” Derek nodded at the box. He turned his attention to the saleswoman. “Thank you. It’s perfect.” Everything about it was exactly to specifications. The woman thanked him for his patronage and then Derek shut the box and walked out.

 

Stiles almost fell over when he tried to abort his leaning position and follow, but he managed to catch himself and then stumbled after Derek. “Wait,” he called to slow Derek’s stride. “For me? Seriously?”

 

“Yes, seriously. It’s your Christmas present.” Derek did slow but he didn’t stop. “If you’re patient, I’ll give it to you at the car.”

 

“When have you EVER known me to be patient, Derek? That is just not a fair deal,” Stiles whined. And yet he managed to keep his mouth shut through them exiting the mall and walking across almost the entire parking lot.

 

Derek couldn’t help but be amused. Stiles was so interested in the bracelet that he was physically restraining himself from speaking or even bouncing. His arms were tight and straight at his side, his stride too measured to be natural. He definitely wanted the bracelet.

 

When they got to the car, Derek turned and leaned slightly on it to face Stiles. He produced the box and popped it open, offering it to Stiles. The movement felt so much like a wedding ring proposal that Derek almost faltered, but in his mind he could hear Stiles confessing and he could taste Stiles on his lips, and he knew that if Stiles took the bracelet like a ring, Derek wouldn’t correct him.

 

“Wow. What does it say?” Stiles carefully pulled the item from the box and held it up to catch the light.

 

“It’s a druid enchantment. The bracelet is pure silver, and with the enchantment on it, you can sort of use the bracelet like a stun gun on mythical creatures.” Derek explained, and he felt a strong sense of déjà vu. Was this the exact thing he’d said in his dream? “See where it says cosantóir? Say that while you’re wearing it, and it’s like charging the stun. It’ll only last for a second, and I’m not suggesting it’s foolproof, but it should be enough to help divert a few things.”

 

“Bro.” Stiles was almost breathless. “How- How much did this cost?” He lowered the bracelet and finally looked at Derek with wonder. “No seriously. This probably cost way too much. Why did you get this for me?”

 

Derek swallowed thickly. It was too similar. No, it was more than that. It was exactly the same. Stiles’ words in his dream were being echoed now, and suddenly Derek was stuck remembering Stiles’ crushed body in the car. He remembered that hopelessness, and he remembered how happy he’d been when he’d woken up to find it hadn’t really happened. Last night, he’d lost Stiles, but today he could still win. It was possible Stiles loved him in real life, right? And he was here, right in front of Derek, and giving him the perfect opportunity to express his feelings.

 

“I love you,” he admitted, voice half caught in his throat from his memory of the dream. He cleared his throat. “I mean… No, that’s right. I bought it to protect you… because I love you.”

 

“Wha-?” Stiles almost dropped the bracelet, but managed to retain his grip. His heart rate spiked, his face flushed, and his pupils dilated. Derek smiled. The chemosignals were promising.

 

“I mean it. I know I’m not the best at speeches or communicating, but I do. I love you. And I want you to be safe.” He closed the jewelry box and slid it into his pants pocket. Then he leaned forward and hesitantly reached out to cup the side of Stiles’ face.  The signs were good, but would Stiles accept a kiss?

 

He would, because he closed the distance between them before Derek could consider it, and smashed his lips haphazardly against Derek’s, grabbing onto the front of his shirt for stability. The hand holding the bracelet was clenched tight around the chain and Derek would almost swear Stiles was shaking, but that could also have been him. It was happening. In real life, Stiles was kissing him and accepting his confession.

 

This was the best day of Derek’s life.

 

“Holy shit,” Stiles breathed when he pulled back, staying close enough to kiss again if the feeling arose. “Dude. Derek. I was-” He laughed. “I was planning to tell you today too. I love you. Man, this is wild.” He stepped back far enough to use his hands and slipped the bracelet on, the bright sun glinting off the metal, and held it up to show off.  “I am totally going to show this off tomorrow so everyone can see I have the coolest, hottest, most amazing werewolf boyfriend. Ok? Ok.” He tugged on the bracelet to make it spin around his wrist.

 

Before he could keep talking, Derek stopped him with an embrace. He could hear Stiles in his head continuing that rant by asking if they were actually dating now, and he didn’t want to hear Stiles say it out loud. Everything was just too similar to the dream – the good parts, yes, but he didn’t want to test it and see how far the similarities went.

 

“Best. Christmas gift. Ever.” Stiles mumbled into Derek’s chest.

 

It made Derek feel great, but it also felt terrifying.

\-- -- -- --

 

Instead of going to the theater, Derek suggested they go back to his place. They could watch Christmas movie marathons on TV, the way he’d originally thought Stiles would want to in his dream. His home was safer, wasn’t it? Besides, the jeep was in the parking lot.

 

On the way back, Stiles tried to sing again but he kept getting distracted by the glint of sun on the bracelet. He’d stop mid-line to stare at it and slowly smile. The start of the next line in the song would usually wake him up from whatever he was thinking, and he’d keep singing like nothing happened, but Derek noticed each and every time. The werewolf smiled too, but Stiles never looked over to notice, too interested in his new jewelry and the holiday decorations they passed.

 

When they parked by the condo building, Stiles jumped quickly out of the car. He ran around the camaro to meet Derek on the other side when he finished turning off the car and got out. The driver’s side door clicked shut and then Stiles pressed into Derek’s personal space, leaning in for a kiss. Derek didn’t object, pulling Stiles close and keeping a hand on the back of his head. His hair felt good sliding between Derek’s fingers. His breath was a relief as it brushed over the skin of Derek’s cheeks between kisses.

 

“I’m so glad,” Derek muttered when Stiles pulled back and started pressing his mouth to Derek’s throat.

 

“About what? Me awkwardly mouthing your neck?” Stiles asked, nervousness and excitement mixing in his voice.

 

Derek shook his head and swallowed thickly. “That it was a dream,” he admitted.

 

Stiles hesitated, clearly worried about the emotion of the situation, but Derek leaned in and kissed him again before making his own progress down Stiles’ pale neck. Stiles’ tension was obvious not only in his pulse but also in how he laughed at the feeling of Derek’s mouth on his skin. He leaned away reflexively and rubbed his neck.

 

“Sorry. Sorry.” He was smiling despite himself. “Sorry, it tickles.”

 

Derek smiled right back. “You’re nervous. It’s fine.” His phone rang out from his pocket and he sighed. “How about we head up?” He handed the keys to Stiles at the same time he pulled his phone out. A glance at the screen showed it was the sheriff calling. “Actually, I need to take this first. You get the movies set up and I’ll be up as soon as I’m finished.”

 

“Everything alright?” Stiles asked.

 

“Yeah. It’s your dad.” Derek looked back at Stiles and frowned. “Calm down. I’m not going to tell him we were making out. Now go. I’ll be up before you get the door unlocked.”

 

It was probably true. The call couldn’t take that long. Stiles considered but then nodded and turned on his heel. Derek watched him disappear into the building as he accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear.

 

“Good morning, Sheriff,” he greeted.

 

“Mr. Hale, are you aware you had an appointment down here at the station this morning?” the older man asked.

 

Shit. Derek had totally forgotten about the cruiser in the wake of knowing Stiles was alive. “Sorry, Sir. Stiles showed up at my building this morning and-“

 

“Is everything alright?” The sheriff interrupted, mild concern tinting his tone.

 

“What? Yeah. Everything was fine. He couldn’t sleep. He was too nervous about tomorrow,” Derek explained, realizing only after he said it that the excuse was what Stiles had said in the dream, not in real life. “Anyway, I got distracted. I’m sorry. I can head over now to fix it before we start our marathon.”

 

“No, no. Don’t.” He sighed, but it wasn’t a disappointed sound. “Stay with Stiles. He’s been looking forward to spending the day with you for a week. The cruiser can wait until after Christmas. We have plenty of others.”

 

“Sir?” Derek frowned. He didn’t like going back on a promise. “It won’t happen again.”

 

“I know. Don’t worry about it. To be honest, I was more worried something supernatural had happened. When a werewolf doesn’t show up to an appointment- Well, I’m sure you can understand my concern.” Now his voice had a bit of a tease to it. “Anyway, I hope the marathon goes well. I’ll see the two of you tomorrow.”

 

“Tomorrow?” Both of them?

 

“I’m not in the habit of fooling myself, Derek. I know Stiles will probably find a way to spend the night at your place.”

 

Derek’s gut stirred and his mind was instantly filled with ideas he should not be having about his first night with someone much less experienced. Surely the sheriff didn’t mean it that way either. Derek was so distracted by his thoughts, in fact, that it took him a moment too long to realize the line had been quiet for a full minute.

 

“What’s your building’s address?” the sheriff asked suddenly, catching Derek off-guard.

 

“7900 N. Preserve Blvd,” he answered as soon as the question made sense. “Why?”

 

“A request just came in for us to send a car there.” There was a pause with a lot of background noise as the sheriff moved around his precinct. “Sanders, what’s the call about?”

 

“I-,” Derek’s voice caught in his throat and he looked toward the door Stiles had disappeared through. “I’ll call you back.”

 

He ended the call and dialed Stiles even as he moved toward the doors. Four rings had come and gone by the time he hit the lobby floor and he hung up with a curse. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and then turned to the stairs. Stiles had decided to walk up?

 

“Shit.” Derek hoped his anxiety was unfounded, but he took the stairs two at a time anyway.

 

Stiles’ scent got stronger the further up Derek climbed. Instead of making Derek feel better, it just made his heart pound harder with dread. He could see Stiles in his mind, crushed and broken in his jeep. He could hear the Sheriff’s anguish.

 

No, it had just been a dream. Stiles had only died in his dream, and this was nothing like his dream. There was no truck to crush him five flights up. There weren’t three patrol cars blocking off the street. There was no broken glass. Stiles was fine.

 

He heard voices on the next landing and his mouth went dry. They were worried, nervous voices, and none of them were Stiles’. And there was a new smell in the air, so strong he could taste the iron. Blood.

 

When he crested the next set of stairs, his stomach dropped so hard that he almost threw up. It felt a lot like choking, but he knew, logically, that he wasn’t. Logic didn’t help him rectifying the scene in front of him.

 

“No, no, no.” His voice was rough and drew the attention of the two young women on the other side of the landing. One was crying while the other had a phone pressed to their ear, but Derek ignored them. Two feet to their right, Stiles’ body was splayed out on the carpet. Blood was slowly, slowly leaking out behind his head from where he’d cracked it on the baseboard.

 

No, Derek had kept Stiles from getting in his jeep. He hadn’t let Stiles’ drive. It was even three hours earlier. No, Derek had changed events so his dream wouldn’t play out. No! Why was this happening?!

 

“Stiles?!” he shouted without needing to, startling the women who’d called 911. He dropped down beside the other and checked for a pulse. He couldn’t hear one, but maybe his own pulse was just too loud. No. He felt nothing. Breath coming out in heaves, he cupped Stiles’ face and felt for breath. Still nothing.

 

“He fell,” the crying woman explained. “We were- We were waiting for the elevator. He shouted. There- Oh my God. We heard something thumping and then he just- he just-”

 

“He didn’t move after he hit the landing. We called 911 immediately. I’m still on with them,” the other woman finished when it became clear her counterpart couldn’t. Her attention went back to her phone. “Sorry. No, a man showed up. I think he knows the other guy.”

 

Vaguely, Derek could hear the 911 operator on the other end of the call, but he didn’t care. Fell down the stairs? First Stiles got crushed? Now he fell down stairs?! People fell down stairs all the time! Why did this time end with Stiles dying?!

 

“Stiles, not again,” he grunted and grabbed the other by the shoulders. Irrationally, he shook Stiles to try and wake him up, but it didn’t work. He knew it wouldn’t work. But- “Damn it! Not again!”

 

He probably sounded crazy. Hell, he felt crazy. It was like having a premonition, only it happened totally different. Pushing himself back to his feet, Derek covered his mouth and felt again like he was suffocating. He stumbled back several feet until he hit the opposite wall, then his knees shook and he slid down to his butt. The woman on the phone knelt by him and asked him multiple times if he was okay, but he didn’t respond.

 

His eyes were stuck on Stiles’ closed eyes, his still chest. Derek didn’t understand. Why was this happening? Why did it happen despite all of Derek’s effort? Just why?

\-- -- -- --

 

Laying on his back, staring at the ceiling, Derek debated the evidence in favor of fate. Was Stiles just meant to die today? On his twenty-second Christmas Eve? Why would fate send him a prophetic dream only to kill Stiles in a totally different way? What was the point? Did that mean it wasn’t fate? Was it just coincidence?

 

He liked that idea even less than fate.

 

Scott had called an hour ago, worried about Derek. Apparently he’d met the sheriff at the hospital. In between his own grief, the sheriff had mentioned that Stiles had been visiting Derek and that Derek had been on the phone with him when the call came in. No, Derek didn’t want him to come over. Yes, he was… fine. He’d be fine. Thank you, Scott.

 

The paramedics had announced Stiles dead on the scene. The deputy that showed up before anyone knew who the victim was took a statement from both girls and even Derek, but he seemed thrown off the whole time, unable to stop glancing back at Stiles’ body. Derek knew the feeling.

 

He’d gone to the hospital with the body so that someone would be there to greet Melissa when she saw. And he’d gone to see the sheriff when he got there moments later. In many ways, Derek felt numb. He’d gone through this rollercoaster not even twenty-four hours earlier so the shock had worn off faster. Now he just felt… nothing. He was hollow.

 

Only when he’d known both Melissa and the sheriff were stable did Derek meander his way home. The camaro was at home and he didn’t like taxis, so he’d run. He ran the long way home but took the elevator up. The blood hadn’t been cleaned out of the carpet yet, and Derek would need to be the one to order the replacement flooring, but that couldn’t be done until the day after Christmas. So he took the elevator, breathing heavy from his run and his emotions.

 

His legs wouldn’t carry him to the bed, so he dropped onto the couch, and that’s where he was four hours later, staring at the ceiling. He wanted to be furious at the universe. He wanted to be distraught over the outcome. He wanted… to feel something, anything, but he felt disconnected instead.

 

Despite everything, Stiles had died again. Or for the first time. He wasn’t really sure what was the dream and what was real. He wasn’t even sure the dream was a dream anymore. But there was nothing he could do about it, either way.

 

He fell asleep eventually, but it felt more like falling into a coma. It felt like not caring if he woke up again, because either way he’d be catatonic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked the chapter - consider leaving a comment. <3


	3. Day 3

Today was the worst day of Derek Hale’s life.

 

At seven a.m., his alarm clock buzzed and chimed, waking him up. Slowly, hatefully, he pushed himself up from how he’d fallen asleep – face first in the pillow– and tapped the dismiss button. He stared at the time shining back from the face of the clock and frowned when he felt the chill of the air on his bare arms.

 

Growling, he grabbed the clock and chucked it at the wall. It shattered into a satisfying amount of debris. Derek shoved himself the rest of the way up and swung his legs out of bed. Grabbing his phone, he checked the date.

 

Christmas Eve.

 

Why? Why was it Christmas Eve again?! Was seeing Stiles die twice not enough? He didn’t need a revolving door of dying Stiles. He would already be haunted by the first two images for the rest of his life. He’d wanted the first time to be a dream, but after two?! He still desperately wanted them to be dreams, but the chances of that were impossible.

 

Grunting, he stood and got dressed. He ignored the blue shirt and went with red instead. As soon as he was dressed, he snatched up his keys and headed out the door. The elevator was his knee-jerk reaction, not wanting to see the blood, but he forced himself to take the stairs. As he expected, the stairwell was unblemished. No cracked baseboard. No blood staining the carpet.

 

The cold December air hit him when he stepped outside, but he didn’t stop. He slid into the Camaro and kicked on the ignition. Without even waiting for the heater to start working, he pulled out and headed into town. He wouldn’t wait for Stiles. He wouldn’t get his own hopes up like that. Instead he was heading to see the one person who might have a clue on what was happening.

 

The vet clinic’s sign said they wouldn’t be open for another two hours, but Derek opened the door and walked in anyway. Why Deaton didn’t lock the door when he wasn’t open was always curious. It was almost like he knew supernatural business would be coming before posted hours.

 

“Derek,” the ex-emissary greeted, unsurprised. “What can I do for you?”

 

“Let me into the back,” Derek grunted, looking down where the door to the back was shut.

 

“Once you calm down, I will. In your state, you’ll send all the animals back there into a frenzy.” Deaton was always so calm. Usually that was good. Derek just found it frustrating at the moment, but he tried to do as told and took several slow breaths.

 

Only after the third one did he realize his eyes had probably been glowing bright blue. He could tell when the glow vanished because his whole body felt less frantic. He felt more human. Across the counter, Deaton smiled knowingly and unhooked the gate. With a welcoming motion, he ushered Derek into the back so they wouldn’t be interrupted and shut the gate behind them.

 

“Tell me what’s happened,” the older man urged.

 

Derek leaned on the metal table in the center of the room and groaned. “I don’t know. This is my third Christmas Eve in a row.” He glanced at the vet and saw the confusion there. “I’m living the same day over and over again.”

 

“Like Groundhog Day?” Deaton asked.

 

“What does an animal seeing its shadow have to do with this?” Derek asked, brow knitting. Was Deaton completely missing the point?

 

With a long sigh, Deaton shook his head. “It’s a movie, Derek. Where-… never mind. It doesn’t matter. Let’s try and figure this out. Is there anything that seems to be connecting the days? Something that happens every day, regardless of other changes? That could be the driving force.”

 

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Derek nodded. “Lots of things stay the same. I wake up the same. The weather is the same. I’m still contracted to fix the cruiser at the station. I pick up the gift I ordered at the mall. Stiles shows up at my house in the morning, but the first day he went home and we met for lunch later, and the next day he came with me to the mall.”

 

“Stiles, you said?” Deaton frowned a little. “Does Stiles do anything… different? Than normal, I mean.”

 

“Besides dying?” He asked with heavy sarcasm. Deaton did not look amused, so Derek actually paused to think about it. Nothing about Stiles seemed out of the ordinary each day, aside from his general nervousness about confessing. Derek felt his face heat slightly when he realized he’d have to explain that, but that was dumb. He shouldn’t be embarrassed about it. “Stiles chose today to confess to me.”

 

“Confess?” Deaton crossed his arms, face thoughtful.

 

“He told me he loved me. And I told him the same,” Derek explained, crossing his arms too, but his were defensive. “I don’t see how that could be the cause of him dying, though.”

 

“It’s a curious idea, certainly. What else happens during your day?” The vet relaxed his stance, noticing the way Derek had mimicked him, and instead leaned on the table.

 

Thinking back, Derek frowned. “The sheriff breaks down. There’s a lot of crying, but I don’t see everyone in the group each time. I didn’t even go to the hospital both times. In the end, I’m back in my home. I feel numb. The next morning, I do it all over again.”

 

Deaton hummed and walked over to a filing cabinet. As he opened a drawer and began searching for something, Derek’s pocket buzzed. He pulled out his phone, confused, and saw Stiles’ name light up the screen. Nerves a bit tighter than normal, Derek opened the text.

 

_“Where are you? I went by your place but you’re not home.”_

 

He frowned down at the screen. Stiles had shown up the same as the last two days. They weren’t just horrible dreams. He really was reliving it all over again. Shaking his head, he typed a quick response.

 

_“Running errands.”_

 

Less than a minute passed before the message lit up again.

 

_“Cool. Still on for lunch?”_

 

Derek looked over at Deaton, who was pulling out several files of imposing size. “Hey, Doc. Anyway I can help? I could search some of those files for you.” Part of him hoped Deaton told him to leave, that he needed time to research alone. Part of him hoped he could be useful and find a solution to the problem.

 

“No. Thank you, Mr. Hale, but these files contain several items of importance that I would rather not show to anyone unless absolutely necessary.” His voice was slightly airy, his attention divided between scanning the file in his hand and forming a coherent response for Derek. “If you have appointments to take care of for the day, you’re free to go. This might take me some time, but I’ll text you if I find anything.”

 

Derek grunted his response, not sure how disappointed he was or what was causing the most disappointment for him. He left without a word, sliding into the Camaro’s front seat with a sigh. He’d come to Deaton for answers and left with nothing. He was used to staying hunkered down, scouring files with Stiles or at least Peter, or out chasing down the villain with his heightened senses, like a supernatural search and rescue dog. Being told to basically go back to his normal routine of fixing cars and lunch dates was not how he’d hoped the encounter would end.

 

Speaking of lunch dates-

 

Derek pulled his phone out again and frowned down at the screen. Did he want to have lunch with Stiles when he knew the other would just confess and then eventually die? Could he face Stiles knowing all that?

 

“ _Yep_.”

 

God, he needed to get better at that. His response was beyond pathetic. But the truth was that Derek wanted to see Stiles even more after seeing him dead twice. Seeing Stiles, however bittersweet and melancholic it made him feel in theory, he knew would feel refreshing and relaxing in person. Seeing Stiles breathing and animated was the only elixir Derek needed… until Deaton figured out how to fix everything, of course.

\-- -- -- -- -- --

 

Since he was meant to follow his appointments, Derek swung by the police station to fix their cruiser again. And since he’d already fixed the car two days ago, he knew exactly what it needed and was done in half the time. That left no time for the Sheriff to finish his business and come out to talk to him, but Derek didn’t want to see him anyway. Stiles alive and smiling was a relief, but whenever Derek saw the sheriff he just remembered his anguish, and until they solved the problem and saved Stiles it was probably all Derek would ever see.

 

Parrish was free when Derek walked in to report he was finished, though, and he hurried over before Derek could escape.

 

“Hey, Derek. So what’s the prognosis on the cruiser?” he asked, all casual friendliness.

 

“She’s passable. But next time, try to overheat _outside_ the car, alright? You can only dodge writing ‘hellhound’ on a report so many times.” He raised an eyebrow in a mock scolding manner but couldn’t hold the expression when Jordan began to chuckle.

 

“Noted.” He crossed his arm loosely and tilted his head to the side.  “So I hear you’re going to the McCall house again for Christmas.”

 

Before he could think about it, Derek answered a question Jordan hadn’t yet asked. “Dinner starts at six, but most people show up by four. Stiles hides mistletoe around the house, and everyone will keep you accountable for it. So avoid walking beside someone unless you’re okay with kissing them.”

 

The hellhound looked a little surprised, but he adapted quickly and only sounded slightly confused when he answered. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. Hey, how did you know I was invited? The sheriff only invited me this morning when he found out I had no plans.”

 

Well shit. Derek shrugged, buying time to think of an excuse. “Um. Stiles. He texted me this morning before I came over to fix the cruiser.” It wasn’t a lie, but the implication that those texts had anything to do with Jordan Parrish and Christmas dinner was.

 

“Oh. I should have guessed that. Stiles tells you everything these days.” The deputy grinned in a half-mischievous way. “Speaking of – I hear you have a lunch date today.”

 

“Yep. Going to grab a bite at Arby’s. See how it goes from there.” Derek wiped his hands on his rag and shrugged, pretending this was any other day.  But if he stayed any longer, he might accidentally mention Parrish’s bacon wrapped hot dogs before the deputy did and seem even more unusual than he already did. Deciding it was time for a smooth exit, Derek pocketed the rag and nodded his head respectfully to the officer. He stepped back while saying, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Parrish.” Because whether the day reset or not, the sentiment was still true.

 

“Looking forward to it.”

\-- -- -- --

 

Derek arrived at Arby’s a full half hour ahead of schedule, which meant he was there when Stiles showed up ten minutes early. The first time Derek lived this day, he’d found Stiles in the bathroom, worrying himself over his confession. The third time, Stiles had no time alone to work himself into a frenzy. Instead he gave a startled jolt upon seeing Derek already seated and waved awkwardly. Then he took a hesitant step in Derek’s direction before probably realizing he was being more odd than normal and hurrying over.

 

“Hey. You’re here early,” he greeted, sliding into the booth.

 

“Finished my business at the station early, which meant I got to finish the rest of my errands early. So here I am.” Derek smiled despite his nervous stomach. Seeing Stiles always had a sort of calming effect on him. He wondered if he’d ever told Stiles that.

 

“Oh, good. Awesome. So you’re ready for tomorrow?” Stiles glanced back at the line and then down at their empty table. “Wanna get in line?”

 

Derek laughed at the fact that Stiles asked two questions in a row without waiting for an answer, but he also nodded. They rose together and meandered up to the counter to order. Currently they were the only ones in line, so they were taken care of pretty quick. While they waited for the food, Derek leaned his hip on the counter and watched Stiles move. He was jittery – just like the first time. His skin smelled of nerves and excitement, and his hands couldn’t stop drumming on his legs.

 

A small smile crept onto Derek’s lips and he didn’t fight it. After a moment of looking over the menu he’d already ordered from, Stiles glanced over and was caught by surprise at Derek’s expression.

 

“What?” he asked, but a grin infected his tone as Derek’s smile infected his face.

 

“I don’t think I ever told you,” Derek mused aloud, thinking back to the years they’d known each other.

 

“Told me what?” Stiles looked away when the worker behind the desk slid their order over. He thanked them and then they walked back to their table. Once seated, Stiles snatched up his burger and repeated, “Told me what?”

 

“That you’re my anchor,” Derek admitted.

 

Stiles paused, burger halfway in his mouth, and lowered the food from his lips. “Like- Like ‘calms you down from full moon rage, reminds you you’re human’ sort of anchor? Like ‘settle myself in the middle of a bad situation’ sort of anchor? Like every girlfriend Scott’s ever had sort of anchor? Like-”

 

Derek reached out and touched Stiles’ arm to stop him. “Yes,” he interrupted. “That sort of anchor.”

 

Mouth hanging open from when Derek paused his rant, Stiles gaped for a full half a minute. It seemed like his brain was rebooting, and there were dozens of questions running behind his eyes. Eventually he lowered his burger all the way back to the table and let out a slow breath.

 

“Since when?” he asked, confusion in his voice, but also awe.

 

Derek shrugged and ate a fry. “Not sure. A couple of years, at least, I think. Before you went off to college? Maybe it was Mexico? I didn’t notice until then, at least.”

 

“MEXICO?” Stiles’ shout echoed in the small restaurant and he ducked onto the table until the startled reactions of the fellow patrons had faded somewhat. He whispered harshly when he continued. “Since Mexico?! Derek, that was like five years ago!”

 

“I’m well aware.” Derek frowned slightly. “I pretty much died, remember?”

 

“Of course I remember!” Stiles sucked in a sharp breath and tried to speak in a level voice. “I almost picked you over Scott. I thought I was never gonna see you again.”

 

“Luckily, I have strong family genes.” Derek smirked and his eyes shone gold. Stiles flailed his arms out, sandwich and all, to try and block them from view, but Derek just chuckled. To ease Stiles’ mind, he let them fade back to normal, and Stiles dropped his arms with a put-upon sigh.

 

“Dude. I don’t need it to turn into a witch hunt on Christmas Eve, alright? Keep the supernatural-ness to a minimum, please.” Finally, Stiles took a bite of his waiting burger and chewed a few times, a disapproving scowl aimed at Derek, who was unaffected. “Anyway, so what are you trying to say, exactly? Like, I’ve been your anchor for five years? So, what? You trust me more than anyone? You… _like me_ more than anyone?”

 

The second suggestion was said with a hint of hope and Derek nodded with a small smile. “Yes, Stiles. I like you more than anyone.” He let that sink in for a moment before slipping his hand over one of Stiles’, removing it from the sandwich and flipping it to hold his hand instead. “I like you much more than anyone else.”

 

Stiles swallowed the food in his mouth in one gulp and seemed to regret it just a bit. Then he squeezed Derek’s hand and smiled despite himself. “Dude,” he muttered. Then louder, “Dude. You have no idea- I was planning on- Derek, I-“

 

“I know,” Derek said, trying to help the brain malfunction Stiles was experiencing. The other shook his head and swallowed thickly again, although this time there was no food involved.

 

“No, man. You don’t know. See, I- I love you. I’ve loved you for, like, probably four years. Hell, maybe it was five, like you. You know, looking back and thinking I’d never see you alive again. Maybe that started it. But I know I loved you four years ago when I graduated.” His leg had started to bounce and his food was forgotten. “I realized it when I came out of the auditorium and started looking for you before looking for my dad.”

 

“That _is_ an honor,” Derek said, only slightly teasing. He put his foot against Stiles’ leg and the jittery motion stopped. “It sounds like we’ve both had a lot of time to consider our feelings. So I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

 

“Do you wanna go on a date?” Stiles blurted suddenly, and then heat rose in his cheeks.

 

Derek imagined the car accident and the stairwell and frowned for a half a second before nodding. “Can we just go back to your place?” he asked. “We can watch your collection of bad Christmas movies.”

 

“Wow.” Stiles’ shoulder sagged with relief. “Wow, yeah. Let’s do that.” He sank back in the booth, his arm stretched out to keep holding Derek’s hand. “Wow. Is this real life? Is this really happening?”

 

Derek did his best not to laugh at him, but he couldn’t stop the happy chuckle that bubbled up from his chest. He squeezed Stiles’ hand and prayed to anyone listening that today would be different, and he could end it just as happy as he was right then.

\-- -- -- --

 

They drove separate cars to the Stilinski house, but Derek left directly behind Stiles and stayed on his tail the whole time, keeping an eye out for crazy, light-running vehicles. The Stilinski house itself had a staircase, but none were required to get to the living room or the movie collection.

 

“You set up the movie and I’ll get the snacks,” Stiles said, strolling toward the kitchen.

 

“You just ate,” Derek reminded, but Stiles was unconcerned.

 

“This isn’t a meal, Derek. It’s a snack. For movies.” He shrugged as he walked backwards out of view. “It’s required.”

 

Derek tried not to smile but it came on anyway. Alone and fairly certain Stiles was safe unless the roof decided to cave in, Derek turned his attention to the movies. He scanned the titles and then lifted one to examine it closer. It was a made for TV movie from the eighties. As good a place to start as any, he figured, so he popped it into the player and went about turning everything on.

 

By the time he had the menu up, Stiles had returned with a bowl. In it was peppermint chocolate moose munch. Stiles plopped down on the couch beside Derek and offered the snack to him.

 

“Christmas popcorn,” he announced. Derek took a few pieces while Stiles watched with great interest. Then Stiles’ eye caught the screen and he grinned. “Awesome first choice. Ready when you are, new boyfriend.”

 

The word ‘boyfriend’ had been used in reference to Derek twice by Stiles now – once on the first day and now today. He still loved the way it sounded. Filled with a pleasant warmth, Derek pressed play and they settled in to watch and commentate.

 

The munch lasted most of the first film, which they picked apart together. Derek suggested that it had a terrible soundtrack but Stiles argued that the lighting was worse. Then, both properly amused, Stiles chose a new movie. This one wasn’t particularly a bad movie, just a cliché one. On the couch, Stiles curled up in one corner while Derek leaned in the other. Close but not touching.

 

Ten minutes into the film, Stiles was leaning the opposite way, on Derek, and using his arm as a blanket. In the movie, the main couple was having a very tiny fight that would be the main conflict of their relationship, and Stiles snorted to hold in his laughter at how ridiculous it was.

 

They made it through three movies that way, cuddled up on the couch. During the fourth, the sun set and Derek started to fall asleep. It was warm in the house, both between the two men on the couch and in the air itself. Derek felt lulled into contentment. The day was almost over, and tomorrow they would exchange gifts… Except Derek hadn’t picked up his gift today. Stiles would have to wait until the day after Christmas to get his bracelet.

 

The only reason Derek noticed he’d nodded off for a moment was because the movie jumped twenty minutes ahead. One minute, Buddy was leaving his family and the next minute, everyone was in the park trying to save Santa. Derek was still tired and could feel sleep pulling on him again. Beside him, encircled by one of Derek’s arms, Stiles was silent and sleeping as well, and the sweetness of the moment made Derek want to give in to his own exhaustion.

 

Slowly, a sour feeling crept in to his bones. Derek wrapped his arm tighter around Stiles and frowned. It wasn’t right. None of it was right. Stiles wasn’t asleep. Tenderly, Derek pulled Stiles closer and buried his face in the other’s hair. Stiles smelled the same. He felt the same. But he was entirely silent. There were no chemosignals. There was no blood pumping through his veins. His heart had stopped beating. While Derek slept, Stiles’ body decided to just stop, and whatever symptoms Stiles had shown, if any, hadn’t been enough to wake Derek. If that wasn’t fate trying to slip past all of Derek’s efforts, he didn’t know what to call it.

 

“I’m sorry,” Derek murmured and squeezed his eyes shut. “I fell asleep. I’m sorry.”

 

There was no reason someone like Stiles should suffer sudden cardiac arrest, but there was no reason for him to get hit by a car or crack his head open by falling down stairs either.  There was no reason for any of it. Except that there was, and Derek was going to find out why.

 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Derek pulled it out slowly. He felt numb, like his body wasn’t his own, and he knew it was from the weight of Stiles in his arms, the weight of Stiles in his heart.

 

“Hello,” he said, voice low as though trying not to wake his partner.

 

“Derek. It’s Deaton,” the doctor replied, as though Derek didn’t have caller ID. “I think I have something that might be an explanation.”

 

“It’s too late today,” Derek murmured, his hand searching for warmth in Stiles’ still shoulder.  He should probably be crying again, like he had the first two days, but he found his eyes dry and his chest cold instead.“Stiles is gone.”

 

“Already?” Deaton was frowning even in his voice. But he moved on quickly. “Okay. So here’s what we need to do: If the day resets again, come find me. Tell me what’s happened like you did this morning. Then tell me it has something to do with a druid spell your mother asked for and Stiles’ mother.”

 

“And you think you can find a way to fix it?” Derek asked. He could already tell the difference in Stiles’ temperature, though he knew it would be hours before the body was fully cold. He felt the hopelessness of the situation sinking in – the fear that there was no way to fix it and he was just fighting fate. But then why did the day keep resetting?

 

Deaton hummed over the phone. “Hopefully. At least one of the issues here should be solved, at least.”

 

Derek didn’t know what that meant, since he only knew about one problem, but he agreed to the terms. He needed to hold on to the hope that Deaton had the answers, that the day would reset, and that they could save Stiles. He had to hold on to that or he would fall apart.

 

But for now, he had to call the Sheriff… again.


	4. Day 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I'm lucky, this story will finish before the new year T_T Sorry, everyone. I really did mean for this to be finished on Christmas, but life and a newborn really get in the way of steady writing.
> 
> On the bright side, a lot of information gets revealed in this chapter. So hopefully it's worth the wait.

Today was the worst day of Derek Hale’s life.

 

At seven a.m., his alarm clock buzzed and chimed, waking him up. Slowly, hatefully, he pushed himself up from how he’d fallen asleep – face first in the pillow– and tapped the dismiss button. He stared at the time shining back from the face of the clock and frowned when he felt the chill of the air on his bare arms.

 

Three times. Stiles had died three times. Derek didn’t like the numb feeling he was getting in his chest. He didn’t like the cold anticipation of how it would happen today. Most of all he hated the way he was almost… getting used to it. He didn’t want to grow accustomed to losing Stiles. He didn’t want to become distant or uncaring about it happening. He wanted to get mad, but he knew it wouldn’t help.

 

Sitting up, he found his phone and dialed the clinic.

 

“Mr. Hale,” Deaton greeted, proving he also had caller ID like Derek. “What can I do to assist you?”

 

“We need to talk,” Derek grunted. He spent only five minutes explaining the situation, keeping to the important details Deaton seemed to cling to yesterday. Then he shrugged, although no one could see him. “You told me it had something to do with my mother and Stiles’ mother and something about a druid spell. Any of that sound familiar?”

 

“Possibly. How about you head this way and I’ll see what I can dig up in the meantime.” In the background, Derek could already tell the man was opening his creaking, old file cabinet.

 

“I’ll be right over.”

\-- -- -- -- --

 

This time, Derek texted Stiles first to tell him he was going on errands. It may have been too obvious that he knew Stiles was planning on coming over, but Derek didn’t care. He sent it anyway and Stiles sent back ‘still on for lunch?’ so it didn’t seem to confuse the other at all.

 

Derek waited until he was securely parked at the clinic before answering that, yes, he was still planning to come to lunch. Then he hopped out of his car and hurried inside. He found Deaton in the back, bent over three thick folders that lay open on the operating table. The vet glanced up at him as he entered and raised his eyebrows in greeting before returning his attention to the papers in front of him.

 

“How much do you know about druids, Mr. Hale?” he asked.

 

Ah, Deaton’s famous habit of trying to lead someone to the answers instead of just explaining himself. Derek sighed and crossed his arms. “Not much. My ex was one. They have a special connection with the elements and the supernatural. A lot of packs employ them as emissaries.”

 

“Ah, but do you know _why_ packs use them as emissaries?” Deaton asked, returning his gaze to Derek and smiling encouragingly. Derek shrugged in response, not in the mood for playing cat and mouse. “Druids pass on the knowledge of each generation’s understanding of the supernatural and how to manipulate the world around them to their offspring. In a way, they share a linear, connected memory of all things magical. For a pack, it’s like having a walking, talking grimoire.”

 

“What does this have to do with my mother and Stiles dying?” Derek asked, impatient. Though his lunch with Stiles wasn’t for another four hours, he felt like he was already late; undoubtedly due to the fact that he’d already been to lunch three times.

 

Deaton nodded and motioned to the folder in front of him. “A great deal, I believe. Druids can cast very powerful spells, and I think our problem today is caused by two spells butting heads. When you mentioned that Stiles was at the heart of this, it got me thinking. You see, Stiles’ mother came from a very powerful line of druids. They have acted as emissaries to more than just wolves.”

 

Brow knit in confusion, Derek stepped closer to try and get a look at the folder. “Stiles never mentioned anything like that. And the sheriff didn’t seem to know anything about the supernatural before we told him.”

 

“Neither of them knew. Claudia was never an emissary, so she never had to hide that part of her life from the sheriff. She met with me several times a month, under the guise of volunteer work at the clinic, to cast protective charms on the town and the like. When Stiles was born, she told me she wanted him to have a normal childhood, unburdened with the knowledge of his lineage and their duty. Besides, until a druid child is about five, it’s impossible to tell just how powerful their gift is, so she wanted to wait and see if her son had even inherited her gifts.” Deaton flipped a page in his folder.

 

“When Stiles was five, he accidentally caused a blackout to a three block radius just by screaming that he wanted to see the stars. The city lights were blocking them out, you see, but after he yelled everything went dark. Claudia put a spell on him to hold back his phenomenal gift, despite my counsel to her that she should train him to control it better. But Claudia was already sick and she feared for Stiles. In all truth, I think she was also afraid _of_ him. He was so young and already his spark was so strong. She locked his spark away with her own, intense desires.”

 

Derek stepped up to the table completely and set his hands on it to hold himself up. He felt a little light headed and wondered if this was how people felt when they found out the supernatural existed. “Hang on. Are you telling me Stiles is some kind of super druid?”

 

With a short shake of his head, Deaton motioned to the hand written notes in the folder. “I’m saying he could be. Claudia’s magic is still holding him back. But she couldn’t contain it all. I led Stiles into using his gifts shortly after Scott became a werewolf, and he’s shown an intriguing ingenuity that I would bet was guided more by his spark than just basic human intuition. However, I was afraid of pushing him too hard before Claudia’s spell broke completely.”

 

“Completely?” Derek asked, stunned. What did that mean? Had it already broken partially? Was Stiles’ mother the cause of the repeating day? How did that make sense? Would Stiles need to learn some special spell to undo it?

 

“Yes. The magic that binds him was weakened when his mother died.” Deaton flipped the folder closed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “When Claudia passed on, Stiles was quite upset. His father wasn’t around, but I had come to visit her in the hospital one last time. At ten years old, Stiles watched his mother die in front of him. I burned incense in her room, as she would have wanted, and Stiles just started talking. He told me that he’d watched his father tear himself apart trying to cure his mother or at least to keep some part of her until the end. He said his father claimed that love kept him trying, kept him hoping. But it had all ended in nothing, and the sheriff was so despondent that he and Stiles had a very rough relationship during the last year of Claudia’s life. With the incense burning, Stiles swore he’d never fall in love, because love was the worst thing that could happen to a person.”

 

“But-“ Derek swallowed thickly. “Stiles fell in love. In a few hours, he’s going to confess to me.”

 

“Exactly,” Deaton said. “That’s the problem. The day his mother died, Stiles accidentally cursed himself, and I didn’t realize it until you called this morning. I checked my notes on Stiles to make sure I was remembering it right and I am.” He paused and looked at Derek’s curious expression. “I knew Stiles would be important one day so I kept tabs on him. Anyway, in the hospital, Stiles didn’t just say ‘I’ll never fall in love.’ He said, ‘if I ever fall in love, kill me.’ And for someone with his intense spark to put that kind of energy into the universe-“ He sighed and frowned. “I should have known it would come back eventually.”

 

Derek’s chest felt heavy. If what Deaton was saying was true, then Stiles was no mere human. He wasn’t just the best friend of a kid who accidentally got turned into a werewolf. Stiles was a druid – and a powerful one at that. The more Derek thought about it, the more sense it made. No wonder the nogitsune had chosen Stiles as a host out of everyone they knew. What better host was there for that kind of spirit than a body that already held the power to manipulate the supernatural? The nogitsune’s power over the oni made more sense too with this new information.

 

But if Derek believed that Stiles was a druid like that, then he also had to believe that Stiles was the reason for his own death each day. The universe was trying to obey Stiles’ spell from over a decade ago. Stiles had fallen in love despite his beliefs at the time of his mother’s death. Despite almost seeing Derek die five years ago, Stiles had still grown to love him. He had decided that the potential of struggle and death in their lives did not outweigh the potential for happiness with Derek.

 

Normally that would make Derek fill with warmth and pride, but now he felt only the sick irony of magic. By telling Derek that he loved him, Stiles was declaring that his feelings for Derek were more important than his anxiety over losing someone he loved. And the universe gave him exactly what he’d asked for twelve years ago and killed him for it.

 

“Wait.” Derek frowned intently. “If the universe or whatever is trying to fulfill Stiles’ wish to die before love could hurt him, then why does the day reset? And why am I the only one who notices?”

 

A smile tugged on Deaton’s lips once more and he shifted the second file on his table to sit on top of the closed file he kept about Stiles. The new folder had Talia Hale’s name on it and Derek took a quick breath and held it so he wouldn’t reach for the pages inside. What notes did Deaton keep about his mother? The curiosity nagged at him but he struggled against it.

 

“Now I can’t be one hundred percent positive on this one, but I can’t think of another reason. The repeating day must have something to do with the charm your mother asked me to put on you when you were in high school.” He opened the folder to a photo of a young Derek, dressed up in his basketball uniform, pinned next to a photo of Paige in her band outfit.

 

Derek did his best not to growl. What did Paige have to do with any of this? And how dare Deaton drag Derek’s _other_ failed love into this! Was thinking about Stiles dying not enough? Now Derek had to remember the terrible way Paige died as well?

 

Luckily, Deaton continued explaining before Derek could get any more aggravated.

 

“When Stiles was nine, before he ever cursed himself, you were a freshman in high school. Fifteen and cocky, you fell in love with the first girl not to swoon at your smile. Following a sad train of events, your heart was broken by her death. While you grieved at home, your mother came to see me. She had comforted you as much as she could, but she worried about her sweet son’s future. She asked me to put a charm on you, to keep any future true love of yours safe. I’m not a powerful emissary, so I called on two friends of mine to help me in blessing you.” Deaton turned the page to hide Paige’s photo and Derek saw a flower pressed against the new page. “They placed a charm to protect anyone you honestly loved from true danger.”

 

The flower was the same as one his mother had given him shortly after Paige’s death. It was meant to signify everlasting love, and Derek almost cried as he remembered his mother’s sweet words convincing him that he wasn’t a monster, that he would love again, and that he would be able to keep his next love safe. In the wake of Kate and then Jennifer and even Braeden, he’d doubted her words, but perhaps it was because he had fallen out of love with them or never truly opened his heart to them in the first place.

 

Kate had murdered his family. Nothing killed love faster than genocide. Jennifer had been using him and had broken his heart while she tried to kill his friends. She’d hurt Stiles, and that’s what broke Derek free from whatever charm her druid skills had cast on him. And Braeden – they’d dated, sure, but she’d returned to her life as a bounty hunter once he’d returned as an evolved wolf. He didn’t need her protection anymore, she’d said, and they’d parted ways.

 

But Stiles- Stiles had turned to look back even after Derek had told him to go and leave him behind. A vision of Stiles was what calmed Derek down when he thought he’d fallen into a nightmare after Kate had returned and shot him. Stiles had trusted him in a way Stiles trusted no one but Scott, and had brought him back when Derek had tried to leave and pretend the worries of the pack didn’t apply to him as an outsider. Stiles loved him.

 

“If Stiles honestly loves you, that would explain why he dies no matter what you do each day. And if you honestly love Stiles, then it makes sense that the universe keeps starting you over, trying to help you change things so that Stiles doesn’t meet his end too young. And you are the only one who can remember anything because otherwise you wouldn’t know what to change to fix it.” Smiling slightly, Deaton closed the second file. “Unfortunately the charm has no understanding of the curse that keeps ruining all its plans, and so you face the undesired fate of reliving the day Stiles dies over and over again.”

 

“But how do I stop it? What do I need to change?” Derek asked. He’d already tried to change so much. If he was trapped in a loop of endless Stiles deaths, then he would rather just die with Stiles.

 

“I’m not sure. You said you have lunch with Stiles today? Go to that and bring Stiles here when you’re finished. I’ll try to gather some things we might need. I’ve never broken a curse before. Especially never one self-inflicted.” Deaton reached for the third and final folder on his table. When he looked up at Derek, it was with eyes that understood his struggle. “Let me call a few friends. We will save Stiles.”

 

It sounded like hope but it also sounded like biding time, and Derek was not a fan of biding time. But at the same time, Derek was not an emissary, and he certainly wasn’t a druid. If Deaton had some druids that could help, then what else could Derek do but wait and see what they knew?

 

“Okay,” he finally agreed. “I’ll be back.”

\-- -- -- --

 

He called the station to let them know he wouldn’t be able to make it out to fix the cruiser, but that he would come out the day after Christmas. The sheriff was more than understanding. Then Derek swung by the mall, since he had nothing else to do, and picked up Stiles’ gift. As he knew it would be, the bracelet was perfect.

 

Derek went to Arby’s afterward – far too early to meet Stiles but enough time to do a few google searches about curses and figure out what he was going to say to Stiles today. Instead of going inside, he stayed in his car to avoid the curious looks of wandering eyes when he sat alone for an hour without food. He’d had the joy of hearing Stiles work up the courage to confess his feelings three times already. And he’d had the pain of losing Stiles three times too.

 

With a sigh, he pulled Stiles’ Christmas gift out of its box and held it up to catch the light. Staring at the druid words on the silver backing, Derek debated. He’d chosen a druid charm in hopes that it would keep Stiles safe, but it turned out that a druid charm was exactly what was hurting Stiles. In fact, Stiles was a druid himself. Part of Derek wondered if that would make the power of the bracelet even greater… if Stiles ever got to use it, of course.

 

“Cosantóir,” Derek murmured in the quiet of his car. In his hand, the bracelet grew slightly warm, a sign that the charm was active. Then a shock snapped at Derek’s fingers and he dropped the bracelet onto the floor by his feet. Well at least the stupid thing worked.

 

It took a minute for the glow to subside so Derek could pick the bracelet up, but then he dusted it off and placed it back in its box. It was a magical stun gun. The idea had seemed so good at the time, but in light of Stiles getting into a car accident and falling down stairs and having his heart just stop beating, it seemed more useless as a defense.

 

A knock on his window caused his heart to jump but he did his best to look completely unfazed as he turned to see who was disturbing him. To his surprise, it was Stiles. From inside his car, Derek hadn’t smelled Stiles’ approach. Glancing at the clock, Derek saw that their lunch date was still an hour away. Brow knit in confusion, he unlocked the car door and stepped out.

 

“You’re early,” he said.

 

Stiles grinned. “Says the guy who got here first.” He leaned on the Camaro and tapped his knuckles gently on its shiny surface. He’d learned long ago to respect Derek’s cars in ways he’d never respect the jeep. “Finished your errands?”

 

“What? Oh. Yeah. For now.” He’d almost forgotten about the lie he’d texted earlier in the day. “What about you? All ready for the party tomorrow?”

 

He’d thought Stiles was decorating the McCall house a bit today, between showing up at Derek’s loft this morning and meeting for lunch – the second day’s excursion to the mall not included, obviously. But maybe he was wrong.

 

“Huh? Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. Finished that yesterday. You know, unless Scott knocked some of it over or something.” He frowned comically and shook his head. Raising his arms out in an exasperated motion, he said, “You’d think a true alpha would be more graceful and be able to dodge inanimate objects, but it turns out he’s still a hopeless klutz.”

 

“Pot calling the kettle black?” Derek asked, one eyebrow raised, and felt the warmth Stiles brought infecting him again.

 

“Fair point.” Stiles shrugged and crossed his arms. He wasn’t offended by the jab, but his heart rate had started to rise. “So…. You wanna go inside? Early lunch?”

 

If they went inside, they’d have the same food as yesterday. If they went inside, they’d have the same conversation. The day would end the same as always, with Derek a broken mess and Stiles dead. Shaking his head, Derek crossed his own arms and tried not to look as tense as he felt.

 

“Not yet,” he said. “I came early because I was taking time to think about things.”

 

Stiles’ Adam’s apple bobbed with a nervous swallow. “What kind of things?”

 

“I got you a present for Christmas… but I’m starting to think it’s not as perfect as I thought it was.” He ducked back into his car and grabbed the small box, almost hiding it in his large hands. Stiles was trying to angle around and get a look at what it was before Derek was even fully standing again, but when Derek fixed him with a disapproving look, he just smiled. It was a mix of innocence and nervousness, and Derek decided to let it pass.

 

He held out the box for Stiles to take, which the other did with a note of caution, as though he thought it would be some kind of werewolf bomb. Stiles pried open the lid, and when he saw the bracelet he actually gasped.

 

“Whoa.” Stiles carefully pulled the item from the box and held it up to catch the light. “What does it say?”

 

Derek swallowed thickly. It was all going to be the same, wasn’t it? If he didn’t do something, it would always end the same. He would explain the bracelet and confess his feelings. Stiles would say he loved him. They’d try to go enjoy each other’s company, and it would end with Stiles dead in Derek’s arms again.

 

“It’s a… a druid enchantment… for protection,” Derek explained, chest heavy.

 

Stiles had cursed himself to die if he ever fell in love, but Stiles had said he’d loved Derek for years now. Was it just the confession that made it lethal? If he stopped Stiles from confessing, would it save him? But what kind of life would that be, where he banned Stiles from ever saying those words? It would be one with Stiles in it, at least.

 

“I got one for everyone in the pack,” Derek lied. He’d buy twenty more of them if it meant he could protect Stiles.

 

“O-Oh.” The disappointment in Stiles’ voice did not go unnoticed. It stung Derek in his soul, but he tried to ignore it. He was saving Stiles’ life.

 

“Pack mates need to look out for each other,” Derek explained further, trying to solidify the lie. “Our pack doesn’t have an emissary, but this should stand in for a little bit of the edge having one might give. Until we get one for real.”

 

Stiles was a druid. His power was locked away, but surely Deaton could unlock that. Maybe in the future, once this threat was in the past, Stiles could be the McCall pack emissary. And Derek could tell him he loved him.

 

“That’s kind of awesome,” Stiles said, but it lacked his usual enthusiasm. His heart was still racing, his nerves still primed. Carefully, he slipped the bracelet on and then took a moment to admire it. He was gearing up for something, and Derek knew what. “Listen… I have to tell you-”

 

“On second thought, I think we should go inside and order,” Derek interrupted. He zipped up his jacket, as though suddenly cold, and took a few steps toward the door.

 

Stiles caught his arm after the third step, halting his progress. “Wait.” He waited until Derek turned back to look at him before continuing. “Don’t you want to know what I have to say?”

 

“No.” Derek frowned at the hurt look that crossed Stiles’ face, but he reminded himself that it was for Stiles’ own good. “I’m sure it can wait.”

 

At that, Stiles lost the hurt and grew angry. His fists balled up at his sides and his eyes narrowed in a glare. “It can wait?” he asked, disbelieving. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

“Stiles-”

 

“No way. No way in hell can you make me believe you don’t notice!” He threw his arms out to the side and then motioned wildly at himself. “My heart is beating like an airplane propeller! I’m sweating a disgusting amount! And you expect me to believe you can’t smell all these crazy chemo-signals?!”

 

“Of course I can. I just think you should wait and consider what you’re going to say.” Derek held his hands up in a placating manner. He hadn’t meant to make Stiles angry, just to dissuade him from confessing.

 

“I have considered it!” Stiles shouted into the crowded parking lot. Luckily it was just cars around to hear. Stiles’ face was growing red and he took a heavy breath before continuing. “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks! Finals were a nightmare, because every time I took a second to breathe, I was thinking about you! About this conversation right here!” He jerked his hand down, pointing at the asphalt as though he could pin Derek in place with the motion. “Do you have any idea what I’m even going to say?”

 

“I’m pretty sure,” Derek admitted. “And Stiles-“

 

“I love-!” Stiles started to shout his declaration, but Derek beat him to the last word. He covered Stiles’ mouth with one hand and held Stiles in place with the other. Stiles struggled against him, angry and hurt, and after a minute Derek finally released him. As he wrenched away, Stiles shoved his hands into Derek’s chest. “What the hell, Derek?!”

 

“I’m sorry.” Derek reached out to take Stiles’ hand, but the other stepped back. “I’m sorry. I was trying to save your life.”

 

“By keeping me from saying I-?”

 

“Stiles!” Derek warned, shouting to block Stiles out.

 

The human backed down from the fight and seemed to finally consider Derek’s words. He frowned intensely for a moment and crossed his arms. “Okay, you’ve got some major explaining to do. And you better start now. This is a terrible Christmas Eve lunch date.”

 

Taking a deep breath of relief, Derek let his shoulders relax. “I’ll explain what I can if you come with me to see Deaton.”

 

“Scott’s old boss?” Stiles’ frown deepened, a sign that he was starting to see how serious this might be. After a delayed minute, he nodded begrudgingly. “Alright. Let’s go.”

 

He started around the Camaro, his anger still radiating off him, but under all that was the distinct smell of disappointment and the sadness of bitter rejection. Derek frowned too and reopened his car door.

 

“And another thing,” he said, sliding into the car as Stiles opened the passenger side door. “No matter what happens, don’t tell me you love me.”

 

Stiles sounded like he choked on the way into the car and it caused him to misjudge the height of the car. His head connected with the doorframe and he held it, groaning, once he was seated. When the pain had subsided enough, he looked at Derek in the driver’s seat in shock.

 

“But-!” he began, stunned and speechless. “I didn’t-! How did-?”

 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Derek managed to smile a little. “Close the door, Stiles,” he ordered gently. “I told you, I’ll explain everything.”

\-- -- -- --

 

Stiles was silent in the car when they pulled up to the clinic. It was eerie, seeing Stiles as motionless and controlled as the nogitsune had made him. This time, it was Derek’s explanation that had caused him to freeze his usual constant motion. Derek had told him about the day repeating, about him dying, and had even explained their theory about why it was happening. It had taken most of the drive, and Stiles hadn’t spoken for a good five minutes.

 

Parked outside the clinic, Derek undid his seatbelt and turned to look at Stiles, growing concerned.

 

“Stiles?”

 

A deep breath shook Stiles’ whole body and then he flipped to face Derek. His seatbelt, still hooked, snagged him and jolted him back in his seat. He gagged at first, but then managed to right himself.

 

“Are you telling me-“ he gasped “-that Deaton wasn’t just trying to be inspirational when he said I had a spark?!”

 

Shocked, Derek sat back slightly. “Um. That’s what he said.”

 

“Okay?” Stiles probably didn’t mean it to be a question. His eyes were wide, his pupils blown, and his heart beat was off the charts. “Okay!”

 

“Stiles,” Derek started to say, and Stiles jolted, his arms flailing slightly. Derek grabbed him by the wrists and held them down by his lap. “Stiles! Calm. Down.”

 

“But-“ Stiles hesitated and swallowed thickly, trying to control himself. “I’m a druid?”

 

“Yes.” He made sure to keep eye contact so Stiles had something to concentrate on.

 

“I-… I cursed myself to die?” He asked, voice cracking with disbelief. “W-Wh- If I’d known-! I wouldn’t have-! That’d be crazy!”

 

“I know. It’s okay. We’re going to fix it.” Derek released one of Stiles’ wrists and slid his hand up onto Stiles’ neck. “It’s okay.”

 

Stiles’ pulse slowed under his palm, but his eyes did not calm. They were electric with excitement. His tongue darted out to wet his chapped lips, and then a slow breath escaped him. His freed hand came up to cover Derek’s and he gripped their hands together.

 

“You love me.” It wasn’t a question. It was a conclusion.

 

Derek’s fingers went lax, but Stiles held him in place. It shouldn’t have been a shock to hear Stiles say it, but it was. He’d told Stiles three times already, but this was the first time Stiles had called him on it before he could say it himself. It was also a shock to hear the word ‘love’ at all. It made Derek nervous to hear it, but it hadn’t been Stiles confessing. Everything would be fine.

 

“Yeah. I do,” he admitted. “That’s why you can’t say it back. Do you understand?”

 

Stiles pressed his lips tight together for a moment before nodding. “I guess.” He dropped Derek’s hand and glared out the windshield. “Stupid, younger me.”

 

With a low chuckle, Derek reached up and ruffled Stiles’ hair affectionately. “Come on. Let’s go break a curse.”

\-- -- --

 

Deaton was surprised by their timing. He’d expected them much later, but quickly enlisted Derek’s help in finishing his preparations. There was a large tub, usually used for washing dogs, which Derek moved to the center of the room. They filled it with water, and then Deaton produced three bags from a side table. One had some kind of salt in it, one smelled like baking soda, and the third was filled with sweet smelling plants. Derek didn’t need to know the specifics.

 

“Alright, then. A friend of mine suggested a solution she’s used in the past, but she’s never had to break a self-cast curse before. So we’re really still playing a guessing game.” He handed the first bag to Stiles. “You cast the curse. You have to make the bath. Pour each bag in and then stir it all together. Imagine you’re making a stew of sorts – a remedy for a cold, only the cold is the curse.”

 

“Do I have to drink it after?” Stiles asked, scrunching his nose as he took the first bag. Derek had to agree with the sour sentiment.

 

“Of course not,” Deaton said with a laugh. “You’re going to soak in it.”

 

“Oh, that sounds so much better.” Stiles did not sound excited, but Derek would take soaking in salty baking soda flowers over drinking them any day.

 

Stiles stepped up to the tub to start pouring, but Deaton held out a hand to stop him. “Sorry,” he said and took the bag back. “I almost forgot. Before you can try breaking your curse, we should undo the binding your mother put on you.”

 

The tension in Stiles heightened and he took a step back from the doctor. His fingers started drumming on one leg, betraying his nerves. “Why does that sound like it’s going to hurt?”

 

“Hurt might be a strong word for it,” Deaton said. He went to a small box on the side table and produced several small purple stones. He brought them to Stiles and set them on the floor around him. “It’ll be more like waking up.”

 

“Mmmm,” Stiles looked heavily skeptical. “Last time I checked, waking up doesn’t hurt at all. Like, unless you’ve got a hangover.”

 

“Just try not to move too much.” The vet went back to his box while Derek and Stiles exchanged a look. Derek tried to look confident while Stiles looked for support. “The stones at your feet are amethysts. They should help drawn out your spark. This,” he said, coming back with a dark blue power, “is powdered lapis lazuli. We’re going to use it a lot like wolf’s bane, only it’s going to draw out your abilities, instead of hinder them.”

 

Deaton set down one last amethyst, completing a full circle around Stiles, and Stiles flinched. His brow creased and his shoulders hunched, almost like he was suddenly holding up some sort of weight. He glanced at Derek through his strain and let out a grunt. Deaton, ignoring the signs of discomfort, continued. He took a small handful of lapis lazuli and held it out in front of Stiles. Then he blew on the powder.

 

Expecting it to just hit Stiles full on, Derek was shocked to see the powder hang in the air around Stiles for more than two seconds. It formed a cloud around the younger male. Stiles was uncomfortable, but Derek was fascinated. It took only two seconds for Stiles to let out a noise of complaint, for the air to actually look like it was sparking, and then the powder dropped like Derek had expected it to. It coated Stiles from head to toe, and when it hit the ground, the amethysts shook.

 

“All done,” Deaton announced and bent down to retrieve his stones.

 

Stiles let out a loud sneeze and shook himself off, sending powder everywhere. “That was… kind of awesome,” he admitted and looked down at his arms, where the powder still clung. “So am I wizard now?”

 

“I suppose we’ll see.” Deaton replaced the stones in their boxes and then returned the bag of salt to Stiles. “You may continue, Mr. Stilinski.”

 

From his place on the other side of the tub, Derek watched, breathless. Deaton hadn’t said anything, but Derek could see the difference in Stiles already. There was something… brighter about him. And it gave Derek far too much hope. The salt bag went in, then the one that smelled and looked a lot like baking soda, and then the herbs and plants. In between, Stiles stirred and quietly complained about the amount of effort it took to stir a giant dog bath tub.

 

After the last bag was mixed, Stiles gave the water an intense look, like he was willing this to work. He gasped and faltered in his mixing when the water actually started to shimmer

 

“Why is it doing that?” he asked, cautious.

 

“Well, hopefully it means it’s working.” Deaton came and took the stick Stiles had been mixing with. “Time to get in.”

\-- -- -- --

 

Stiles sat in the tub, mostly submerged and with his eyes closed. It was mostly just his face above the water. The back room of the clinic was deathly quiet, with Deaton on one side of the room and Derek on the other, both watching Stiles for signs of change. In a way, Derek worried Stiles had died again, because he was so still and silent. But his chest rose and fell with breaths, and his nostrils moved with the air.

 

“Anything yet, doc?” Stiles asked, shifting so his ears were clear and breaking the silence he’d let stand for a whole five minutes.

 

“As I said before, Mr. Stilinski, you’ll know when.”

 

“I think it’s when,” Stiles said. He pushed himself to a sitting position and ran a hand over his head, flinging water from his hair. “I feel tingling all over my body. Plus, I’m developing pruny fingers.”

 

Derek stepped over to help Stiles out of the tub. With the amount of water dripping off the other, he would have slipped without the support. As soon as Stiles’ last foot left the water, it lost its shimmery glow. Stiles’ pants were suctioned to his body with the weight of the water, and his bare chest shone with droplets.

 

“Can I tell you I love you now?” he asked, and Derek was instantly ripped from his admiration.

 

“Stiles!” he scolded, forehead drawn tight together. “You can’t-“

 

“Hey now,” Stiles pulled back from him. “How are we supposed to know if it worked unless I tell you?!”

 

Damn. He had a point. But if it hadn’t worked, then Stiles would just die again. Derek glanced at the clock. It was mid-afternoon, the latest Stiles had ever survived to. Was there a time limit for this curse? He’d died within half an hour the first two days, but he’d lasted several hours on the third day. How were they supposed to know if it worked?

 

“Fine. But we’re not leaving the clinic. I’m not risking another car accident,” Derek conceded.

 

“Fine.” Stiles pouted and crossed his arms, every bit the petulant teenager he used to be. But then his face softened to only a mild annoyance and he seemed to be fighting a tiny smile. Derek narrowed his eyes in concern and Stiles looked away from him. He spoke, but it was so quiet that even Derek’s wolf ears had trouble picking it up.

 

“What?”

 

“I love you,” Stiles said, louder, and turned to face Derek again. He was smiling again. “Maybe I’m gonna die, but you know what? It doesn’t change anything. I still love you.”

 

Derek frowned for a moment, disappointed in Stiles tempting fate like that, but then he sighed and pulled Stiles into a one-armed hug. “You’re an idiot,” he said into Stiles’ hair.

 

“I’ve been told it’s an endearing quality.”

 

It was, at least a little bit, but Derek wasn’t going to tell Stiles that right now. Across the room, Deaton smiled. His boxes and bags were put away, and somewhere in the next room a dog was barking, and overall he just seemed pleased with the world. Derek and Stiles forgot he was even there.

 

Until the sound of someone opening the clinic door disturbed their peace. Derek looked to Deaton, who looked equally perplexed.

 

“I thought you locked the door,” Derek said.

 

“I did.”

 

Brow creased in concern, Deaton led the way out into the lobby. Derek made sure to put Stiles behind him, not taking any chances. When they stepped into the other room, they found a woman digging through the drawers behind the front desk.

 

“Can I help you, ma’am?” Deaton asked. The woman jumped and flipped around to see who had caught her, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her hair was messy, her clothes disheveled. To Derek, she looked like a user… but she didn’t smell like one.

 

“Where are they?” she asked when she’d caught her breath from the shock.

 

Deaton took a step toward her. “Where are what?” he asked. “We have no drugs here.”

 

The woman sneered at the insinuation and pushed away from the desk. “I’m not here for drugs!” she shouted. “I need the evidence! I need the files about the dog! I need it or they’re going to blame _me_ for him dying instead of his stupid mutt!” She raked her hairs through her hair, messing it up more, and groaned loudly. “But I can’t find them! Where did you put them?!”

 

“Ma’am, I think you’re at the wrong animal clinic.” Deaton held his hands up, placating. “I’ve had no criminal cases lately.”

 

The woman groaned again and turned away from them, hugging herself tightly. When she turned back around, she pulled a gun from her jacket and pointed it at them all. “You’re lying. You’re covering for them!” She was shaking. Not good, Derek thought. “Those assholes at the precinct! They’re trying to frame me and you’re helping them!”

 

Deaton held his arms out to the side, as defenseless as he could be. “Ma’am, please. Put the gun away. You don’t need to hurt anyone. We can figure this out together.”

 

Behind Derek, Stiles peeked out and frowned. The woman jumped at his sudden appearance and a loud bang echoed through the clinic. Derek felt like he’d been shot, but only because he saw the gun kickback in the woman’s hand and knew that the shot had missed him entirely. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth, hating life… because it couldn’t be a coincidence.

 

The woman screamed in terror and dropped the gun, and after that Derek let Deaton deal with her. He turned around and found Stiles leaning against the wall, bleeding from a shot to the chest. Physics kept him standing, but not for long. Derek caught him as his weight overpowered his knees and he fell. Slowly, he lowered Stiles to the floor and listened for his heartbeat. It was ragged and unstable, and Derek cursed.

 

For a moment he wished he had alpha powers so he could bite Stiles and save him, but then Stiles’s hand found his face and erased his thoughts. Stiles’ already pale face was draining of color and he was having trouble breathing as the blood rushed to escape his chest.

 

“I-“ He coughed and blood trickled on his lips. His voice was hoarse, and Derek bit his lip. The blood was in his lungs. “-still l-love-”

 

Derek shushed him gently and cupped his face. “Shut up, Stiles,” he ordered, and his own voice was rough. His chest ached with a different kind of pain. He hadn’t been shot, but it still hurt. The bath hadn’t worked. The curse was still in place. Stiles was still dying.

 

“T-Tomorrow,” Stiles said and heaved for air. His eyes held Derek in place, full of pain and yet determined.

 

Under their power, Derek nodded. “Tomorrow,” he agreed and pressed his lips tight together. And then all he could do was hold Stiles in his arms and comfort him while Deaton called an ambulance and the woman cried on the floor. Stiles’ breaths got shorter… and shorter… and then, finally, stopped.

 

Derek sobbed without tears, his tension and guilt bubbling over, and he clenched his arms tighter around Stiles’ body. Damn it! Now he was back to square one!


	5. Day 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done. Sorry sorry sorry that this 'Christmas' fic is going to finish so late into the new year.

Chapter 5

 

Today was going to be different.

 

That was the thought Derek woke up with when his alarm chimed at seven in the morning. He pushed himself up, grabbed his phone, and went to get dressed. Yesterday, the curse had brought a woman to the clinic to shoot Stiles. Deaton had not been accosted any other day, which meant the curse was the only one to blame. But today they were going to break this stupid curse, damn it.

 

Once dressed, Derek strolled out the door and down the stairs of his complex while he called Deaton. Like the previous morning, he explained the situation, only this time he did it with more certainty. Stiles had only died after confessing to loving Derek. There was no longer any doubt about what was causing the issue.

 

“Yesterday we tried some kind of magical bath soak and it didn’t work,” Derek included. “We need something else.”

 

“Give me a couple of hours to call some friends,” Deaton said, just like yesterday. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

 

“I’ll bring Stiles.” Derek hung up without saying goodbye and marched out the doors and into the parking lot. As he got to his car, he dialed Stiles.

 

It took only two rings for the other to pick up. “What’s up, Derek? Did something happen?”

 

Although Derek knew Stiles was probably already driving over to see him, he understood why an early morning call would confuse someone in the pack. A call first thing in the morning probably meant trouble, even after so many years of relative peace.

 

“Not today,” Derek answered. “Listen, I know you’re heading my way, but I’m heading out. Can you meet me at the station in like an hour?”

 

On the other end of the line, Stiles spluttered. “How did- I’m not-” He paused to breathe and then, with the hint of a grudge in his voice, said, “Alright. Yeah. That’s not scary at all, you suddenly having psychic powers. I’ll just meet you at the station and not be totally nervous about a supernatural trap or something.”

 

“Good. Because I have a present to give you.” He turned the key in his car’s ignition and smiled. “So it’s best if you’re on your guard.”

\-- -- --

 

Luckily for Derek, the mall was open early on Christmas Eve. When he arrived on site, the doors were already open for people even though the businesses didn’t open until eight. The workers were strolling in, setting up signs and preparing for their customers, many of whom were already standing anxiously outside the closed shutters of the businesses.

 

Derek slipped between people that were panicking about waiting too long to get gifts and found the owner of the jewelry shop just getting to her own storefront.

 

“Good morning,” he greeted smoothly, catching her just as she opened the shutter. She turned and eyed him suspiciously before recognizing him.

 

“Ah, Mr. Hale. Good morning.” She checked her watch and then pursed her lips. “I’m afraid we don’t open for another forty minutes.”

 

“I understand. And I know I’m being a terrible customer, but I’m on more of a time crunch than I expected. Is it possible that I could pick up my item now?” He felt guilty for asking her to work before she’d even technically opened. The younger woman who had handed Derek the bracelet twice already wasn’t even there yet.

 

The owner gauged Derek’s sincerity and her own business practices for a moment before she shrugged. “This is highly unusual,” she said, throwing open the shutter and beckoning him further in. “But since you’ve already paid in full, I suppose I’ll let it slide this once. Also, it’s Christmas, right?”

 

With that, she slipped behind the desk and into the back room. Derek checked his watch too while he waited. He had half an hour to get to the station, but he shouldn’t need that much time. The owner returned with his box and presented it with a flourish. Derek smiled and checked the bracelet for her benefit. He already knew how perfect it was.

 

“Thank you so much,” he said honestly and slid the box into his jacket pocket.

 

“You’re very welcome. And I hope you choose us for your next jewelry needs.” She gave a small bow of her head before motioning toward the exit. Derek understood. She had to prepare her shop for other customers. He inclined his head to her too and then left quickly. He was also on a time crunch, after all.

 

He made it to the station in record time despite barely speeding to get there. A deputy met him at the door and led him out back to the burnt out cruiser. Derek carefully put his jacket to the side before he started working, planning to get the cruiser up and running today so that when they broke the curse everything would be back to normal. But he’d only managed to buff off the soot from the burnt pieces before Stiles arrived.

 

“I’m happy you’re actually here, but it’s still scary that you knew what I was doing before I even got off my street.” Well that was one way of saying hi.

 

Derek pushed back from the cruiser and dusted his hands off. “It’s good to see you too,” he said, and he meant it. Today would be different. Today, Stiles wouldn’t die.

 

“Of course it is. I’m awesome.” Stiles posed to punctuate his sentence and then shrugged into a relaxed stance. “Soooo you said you had a gift for me?”

 

Checking his hands for soot first, Derek then walked over to his jacket and fished around in the fabric until he found the box in the inside pocket. He pulled it out and brought it back to Stiles, debating how he wanted to do it this time.

 

“Before I give it to you, I need to explain some things first.” He covered the box with one hand and held it against his side, effectively keeping Stiles from making out any kind of logo. The pale man straightened his posture and frowned.

 

“See? Still terrifying,” he said.

 

Derek tried to smile to break the tension, but it only seemed to make Stiles more confused. “I have given you this present four times,” he began and held up his hand to stop Stiles’ questions. Stiles, whose mouth had already opened to speak, abruptly shut his jaw. “And four times, you’ve accepted it and loved it. But each time that I give it to you, you tell me you love me. And then each time you die.”

 

“I-“ Stiles frowned and crossed his arms. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“I’m talking about the fact that I’m repeating Christmas Eve every day. It’s a lot to explain and a lot for you to understand in a short time, I know, but you have to listen, just like you did yesterday. Your mom was a druid and so are you. She never told your dad either, because she wanted you to have a normal life. When she died, you accidentally cursed yourself to die if you ever fell in love. Only you have to actually confess for it to happen. It’s like the pin in the grenade. You confess that you love me, we get a kiss or two in, and then something happens and you die.” Derek gripped the box in his hand tighter. “And every day, I can’t stop it. But today is going to be different.”

 

“H-hang on. Back up,” Stiles interrupted, making an x in front of his chest with his arms. “I-“

 

“No. Deaton wasn’t teasing you when he said you were a spark. Yes. You’re a druid. Yes. You really did curse yourself, but we’re going to fix it.” Derek held the box in front of him for Stiles to take. “Yes. I love you.”

 

“You really have had this conversation with me before, haven’t you?” Stiles sounded stunned, like he still couldn’t believe this was really happening. He lowered his arms but made no move for the box, so Derek popped open the lid to reveal the bracelet.

 

“Here. I always planned to give this to you today, because I knew I’d lose my nerve if I tried to give it to you tomorrow,” he said. This much was true no matter what changed. “It’s a druid protection charm. I had it customized to keep you safe. Because I love you.”

 

His heart was beating fast in his chest as he stepped up to Stiles. Of all the Christmas Eve’s he’d lived this year, he realized he’d only said that to Stiles twice. Once the first day, and once the second day. But he’d let Stiles die two days in a row without even telling him the truth in simple terms. Stiles always knew, he supposed, but it was different when he actually got the words out.

 

When Derek looked down into Stiles’ eyes, he saw the other was biting the inside of his cheek. Stiles’ hands were shaking slightly against his jeans, and Derek scooped up the right one smoothly, stopping the motion. He took the bracelet out of its box and slipped the box back into his jacket. Then, without pomp or procession, he clipped the charm around Stiles’ wrist. He could hear the thump-thump of Stiles’ heart as it picked up speed, and he could smell the beautiful scent of desire wafting from the other’s skin. He smiled.

 

“I’ve heard you say that you loved me before, and I want to hear it again,” Derek admitted, taking Stiles’ hand into both of his own. The bracelet slid back slightly and caught the sun. “But we have to break your curse first. I know you’ve been psyching yourself up to confess today, but hold off, okay? Because I can’t keep watching you die. Help me save your life first.”

 

For a second, Stiles said and did nothing, just stared at Derek with intense eyes. Then he grabbed Derek’s hands and squeezed them tight. “Wow. Derek. Do you hear yourself?” He sounded awed, and for a moment Derek worried Stiles didn’t believe him. Then Stiles started to grin. “Did you hear that speech? That was great!”

 

“I- Thank you?” Derek’s brow knit in concern as he tried to figure out if Stiles understood the gravity of the situation this time around.

 

Stiles nodded and shook Derek’s hands slightly. “I understand,” he said, almost like he was reading Derek’s mind. “I mean, it’s a lot to take in, but I mean I trust you. So I’m trying really, really, _really_ hard to understand.” He punctuated the last ‘really’ with a tight squeeze to Derek’s hands. “At least- I mean the important part is you don’t want me to say I-… I mean, I can’t say three specific words together, right?”

 

“Right. Not until after we see Deaton and break the curse.” Derek pulled Stiles tight against him for a hug and took a deep breath of his scent – excited and nervous and very much alive. “Then you can tell me as much as you want.”

 

Stiles pat Derek on the side and then used his grip on Derek’s hips to push away. “Speaking of telling people things,” he said, “How about you give the long version of that explanation so I can actually understand what the hell is going on?”

 

With a soft chuckle, Derek nodded his consent. They spent the next hour working on the cruiser, although they could have finished it in far less time with the two of them, and discussing the strange new supernatural aspect of their lives. Derek did his best to explain everything he knew about the situation, Stiles did he best not to ask too many stupidly specific questions, and Derek had to keep reminding Stiles that duct tape was not an acceptable way to repair a government-paid-for police cruiser.

 

Parrish came out to find them at the end of the hour and found the cruiser in working order and the two men pointing at random parts and trying to teach each other new things about cars. Which was ridiculous because they both knew plenty about cars. It was just that Derek knew the technical terms and the _right_ way to fix a car and Stiles knew the exact way to MacGyver his way out of an exploding engine.

 

“So boys,” Parrish said, interrupting their mini argument about why you shouldn’t pour dish soap into your windshield cleaner. Derek, who had heard the hell hound approaching, turned calmly. Stiles, with his human hearing, startled wildly and banged his head on the hood of the cruiser when he tried to stand up. He fell away from the car, whining, and flopped onto his butt on the ground. Parrish grinned. “What’s the prognosis?”

 

Derek pushed off the car and lowered the hood. “She’ll survive. Just don’t try to light her on fire anymore.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, half groaning from his place on the ground. “Dude, next time you’re gonna lose your cool – literally – do it outside the car. Preferably in a parking lot. No grass at all, you hear?”

 

Speaking of grass, Derek helped Stiles up from the grass on the edge of the station’s parking lot and then helped him brush the dirt off. Parrish just laughed.

 

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” he said. Then he put his hands on his hips. “We were starting to wonder if you two were dead out here. Derek’s usually so punctual.”

 

“Well you know us,” Stiles said, shrugging himself back into a comfortable position. “Two crazy kids. Getting up to no good.”

 

Parrish chuckled again. “I’m not sure how young Derek and I are, but I guess that applies to you.”

 

Stiles spluttered. “I’m not-! Derek’s not-! Hey, I graduated college!”

 

“I did that six years ago,” Parrish countered and looked far too smug with his stupidly handsome face.

 

Clearing his throat, Derek effectively got all the attention, which he’d meant to do but it still embarrassed him a bit. “Age is relative,” he said. “The sheriff probably thinks we’re all still kids.”

 

“That’s right.” Lo and behold, the sheriff had come outside to see where his deputy had gone to. “I’m also worried that this cruiser eats people, because three people have come out to check it and three people haven’t come back. Anyone care to tell me which magical creature I’m dealing with here?”

 

He looked disapprovingly between the werewolf and the hell hound before settling a look on his human son. No. His druid son. Derek wondered how the sheriff would take the news when they told him. Would he be angry at his wife for hiding it from him? Would he be angrier at them for telling him?

 

“Nothing supernatural going on here, sir,” Parrish answered, back straight like the soldier he was. He didn’t know he was lying. The whole day was supernatural to Derek.

 

“Good. Parrish, head back inside. There’s a call requiring a deputy.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Parrish nodded, and marched back into the building, but not before giving a smiling glance back at the two others.

 

When the door closed, it was just Derek, Stiles, and the sheriff in the back parking lot. The Christmas Eve air was chilly, and Stiles fidgeted with his new bracelet under the light scrutiny of his father. His fingers ran back and forth over the word Derek hadn’t explained today and Derek felt his insides warm up at the thought that he might be bringing Stiles comfort with it.

 

“Car’s good to go,” Derek said, breaking into the silence. He lowered the hood until it clicked shut and used his towel to wipe off soot and grease he knew had already been wiped away.

 

“Glad to hear it,” the sheriff said and finally smiled. He glanced at his son before looking back at Derek. “Now I thought you two boys had a lunch thing to get to.”

 

“Uh-“ Stiles opened his mouth to speak, probably to say they didn’t need to go to lunch because Derek had already confessed and had actually already heard Stiles confess like four times and yeah don’t worry, dad, it’s a lot to explain, but lunch today was really just for confessions and we’ve done that already.

 

But Derek put a hand on his shoulder to stop his ranting explanation. “Yes, sir,” Derek agreed and smiled a little. “Thank you.”

 

He ushered Stiles to start walking toward the front parking lot, and the younger man did eventually start moving. He waved to his dad, and the bracelet jingled slightly as it shook, metal hitting metal in the chain. “See you later, Dad!”

 

“See you tomorrow,” the sheriff said, echoing his words to Derek so many days ago. He didn’t expect to see either of them again until the party tomorrow night. Well at least some things never changed.

 

They walked around the building instead of through it and Stiles quickly took up the chance to talk without prying eyes. He rambled on about ‘how am I supposed to tell my dad about my mom?’ and ‘he’s never going to believe this whole Groundhog Day thing’, and that’s when Derek stopped him.

 

“Deaton said that too. What is a Groundhog Day thing?”  he asked.

 

Stiles burst out with a laugh before he caught himself. He had the grace to at least pretend to be sorry for it afterward. “It’s a movie, Derek,” he explained. “Bill Murray relives the same day over and over again, like a hundred times. It’s a comedy.”

 

Derek’s face scrunched up in distaste. “Well mine is definitely not funny,” he said. “And I’d like to stop it at five, if we could.”

 

“Me too, obviously,” Stiles agreed. “I mean, one of these days I’d like to tell you I l-“ Derek snatched up Stiles’ hand and jolted him to a stop, both in walking and in words. Stiles squinted at him, confused, before realizing what he’d almost done. “I just- I meant- One of these days, I’d like for our conversation to… mean something? Past midnight, I mean?”

 

Letting out a breath of relief, Derek nodded and they started walking again. “Me too,” he said. It would be nice to know Stiles could remember the things Derek told him the day before, that it hadn’t all be erased again. It would be nice to experience Christmas Dinner with the McCalls and finally see everyone else, too.  He’d lead Stiles up under some of the hidden mistletoe and kiss him in front of everyone. Public Display of Affection and embarrassment be damned. Derek had suffered four days of Stiles dying. Kissing him in front of the pack would be a cake walk.

 

“Derek,” Stiles said, and Derek realized the younger man had been surprisingly silent while he’d been thinking.

 

When he looked over at Stiles, the other lifted his hand for inspection and grinned. That’s when Derek noticed they’d been walking while holding hands. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but then he cracked a smile. He squeezed Stiles’ hand and lowered it back to their sides. They walked that way, hand in hand, all the way to their cars.

 

Stiles had managed to park right beside Derek, and they had a repeat of day one in the police station parking lot. ‘You go first.’ ‘No, you go first.’ And so on and so forth. Eventually Derek leaned in and kissed Stiles, leaning him back against the jeep. Stiles grabbed on to him hard and pulled him close, and they made out like that, between their cars and in view of the doors, for a good minute, before a deputy popped their head out, wolf whistled and shouted ‘Yeah! Get it, Stiles!’

 

They pulled apart, appropriately embarrassed, and Stiles flicked off the door until the deputy went back inside, laughing.

 

“I’ll see you at the clinic,” Derek said, chest full and warm.

 

“Yeah. To the curse breaking clinic,” Stiles agreed. His face was red, his pupils too wide, but he was grinning like an idiot. He tapped the bracelet on his wrist and then motioned to the driver’s side door of the jeep.

 

Then they were in their cars and driving. Even though Stiles hadn’t confessed yet, Derek kept an eye out for trucks on the way there. Nothing happened of any consequence, not even a too hard tap of the breaks, and they arrived at the clinic in a boring procession.

 

Derek turned his car off and stepped out into the windy, chilly air. Stiles slipped out of the jeep in the neighboring parking spot. They looked at each other and smiled before closing their doors at the same time and heading for the door.

 

It was time to break this curse, once and for all.

\-- -- -- --

 

The dark blue powder coated Stiles’ hair and shoulders and, really, everywhere once Deaton’s little spell was done. Stiles sneezed loudly and his whole body shook with the force of it, dislodging most of the powder. The amethysts at his feet shook with the force of it too. That hadn’t happened last time.

 

They’d met Deaton in the back room, and the vet had quickly set about unlocking Stiles’ gifts with his stones and powders, but this time he’d added a little extra. He’d made Stiles hold a long white stone that he called selenite. Stiles had to wave it over his body like he was lint rolling the air around him before Deaton would even put down the first amethyst.

 

“It’s used to clear the body of energy blockages,” Deaton had said. After Derek’s report that morning, he’d decided they needed a little extra juice to get Stiles’ spark moving.

 

After he’d finished sneezing, Stiles shook himself to rid himself of more powder. Derek stepped up this time to help him clean off and Stiles smirked up at him. “I think I’m a wizard now,” he said.

 

Derek smiled in a way that said he was unimpressed but humoring Stiles, and then he looked at Deaton, who was collecting his stones. “I think it might have worked,” he said. “Last time, the amethysts didn’t move when he sneezed.”

 

“Let us hope so,” Deaton said, putting the crystals away. “I don’t know of another way to unlock his gifts if that didn’t work. Selenite, amethyst, lapis lazuli? There aren’t many other crystals we could add. And I’m not an expert in them anyway. I’d be too afraid of misusing them and getting the wrong effect.”

 

With his shoulders hunched, Derek grunted. “Then we’d better get it right this time.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

Deaton went to the table then and set down a large glass jar, a long lighter, and a buddle of some herb that Derek didn’t know the name of, but which smelled very nice. It was like cedar trees and grass and an herb his mother used to keep around the house. It was a sweet smell.

 

“This is white sage,” Deaton explained and motioned for Stiles to approach the table. “According to my druid friends, it will cleanse your spirit once we’ve subdued the curse.”

 

“And how exactly are we supposed to do that first part?” Stiles asked. “Cleansing is great, but shouldn’t we explain the subduing bit first?”

 

His heart rate was up, spurred on by nerves, and Derek quickly stepped up to calm him down. He put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder and gave a tiny squeeze, remembering back to when Boyd had died and Stiles had comforted _him_. It had the desired effect, and Stiles’ heart rate evened out. The younger man took a steadying, deep breath.

 

Deaton nodded and put his hands together. “We’re going to try channeling the curse into an object,” he explained. “Once it’s contained, we’ll burn the white sage to hopefully clear you and the object of the curse forever – or at least you. The object may not be touchable again.”

 

“There’s a lot of hoping involved in this,” Stiles noted, wary. He leaned slightly into Derek’s touch, away from the table.

 

“There’s no set rules for breaking curses, Mr. Stilinski. Especially not self-induced ones. We’re just going to have to test things out until we find one that works.” The vet did not look pleased about Stiles’ concerns, and his frown only deepened when Derek spoke up.

 

“No, it ends today,” he said. “This is going to work.”

 

Stiles turned under Derek’s palm to grin up at him. “This positivity thing you’ve got going on is pretty sexy,” he said and Derek blushed a little bit.

 

“Let’s just focus on the curse breaking.” He nudged Stiles until the other turned back around and then crossed his arms in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. He wasn’t trying to be sexy – just determined. Still, it was flattering to hear Stiles call him sexy.

 

“Yes, let’s,” Deaton agreed. “Do you have anything precious on your person? If it belonged to your mother or is in some way related to the curse, it will be easier for you to focus the curse into it.”

 

He gave Stiles a quick once-over while the other took time to think about everything he had on him or in his jeep. Stiles patted all his pockets, lips pursed in thought, and then frowned. “No, I-” He paused and covered one wrist with the opposite hand. “I don’t have anything of my mother’s,” he said. His eyes found Derek’s and he frowned harder. “But I do have something sort of related to the curse.”

 

He dropped his bare wrist and held up Derek’s Christmas gift. The silver managed to catch light even in the dark back room of the animal clinic. Derek couldn’t read the druidic word from his position, but he knew its curving letters by heart. The translation roughly meant ‘Protector’ or ‘Guardian’, although it hadn’t exactly done much protecting these last few days. Still, Derek did not regret ordering it or giving it to Stiles. It was a symbol of his feelings. Of _their_ feelings.

 

Deaton didn’t question the significance. He just nodded. “Alright. Now hold it in your hands and imagine putting all that negative energy from the curse into the silver of the bracelet. Really focus, like you did with the mountain ash all those years ago. Imagine your curse applies to the bracelet and not to you. Once you know it’s worked, place the bracelet in this jar.” He unscrewed the jar in question and set the lid to the side. Then he motioned for Stiles to begin.

 

Stiles stood in the middle of the back room, both hands palm up with the bracelet on top. At first he stared down at the silver band, then he squinted down at it, then he frowned. Eventually, he shut his eyes entirely and tried to relax his features and, hopefully, his mind.

 

Derek wanted to offer support again, wanted to help in some way, but there was nothing he could do. He wasn’t a druid. His biggest help now was that he’d gotten them to Deaton in the first place. Without the charm placed on Derek, there’d be no shot at breaking the curse on Stiles. There was nothing else he could do.

 

Beside him, Stiles’ lips moved but no words came out. It looked like he might have said ‘come on’, but it was hard to tell from Derek’s position. Slowly, Stiles’ eyes opened. At the same time, Derek’s gaze was drawn to the bracelet, which had begun to faintly glow. Stiles was so shocked that he almost dropped the jewelry and had to scramble to keep hold of it. Then he beamed over at Derek.

 

“Oh my god!” he nearly shouted. “It’s actually working! Derek, holy shit!”

 

“The jar, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton reminded in earnest and Stiles jolted back into focus. He quickly moved to the table and tried to be careful about setting the bracelet in the jar, but he fumbled it and ended up just about slamming the bracelet inside. The metal caught on the edges of opening and clinked loudly as it fell to the bottom. Honestly, Derek was surprised he hadn’t accidentally broken the jar with the movement.

 

At the same time Stiles was flailing, Deaton took the lighter to the sage. It sparked and caught fire in his hand, and he blew on it until the flames were a simmer. The sage let off a continuous wave of smoke, and Deaton handed the bundle to Stiles quickly.

 

“Bathe yourself in the smoke and then put the remains of the sage in the bottle with the bracelet,” he ordered.

 

Stiles’ movements were jerky with inexperience and a slight, bubbling anxiety, but he did as told and waved the bundle of smoking sage all around himself, fanning himself like it would cool him off instead of cover him in soot. He even bent over far enough to touch his toes with it, but he was moving so quickly that he almost fell over. He looked more than a little foolish.

 

Once he was sure he’d been completely covered in the smoke, Stiles nearly lunged forward to drop the remaining herbs in the jar. Deaton sealed it with the lid as soon as Stiles was out of the way and then put his arm out, ushering Stiles back from the table.

 

It took no time at all for the smoke to fill the jar, but they could still see the bracelet glowing at the bottom. Stiles never took his eyes off the glow, but Derek kept glancing between the jar and Stiles, unsure which was more important at the time. Slowly, the smoke became thick enough that the bracelet’s shine started to fade. That or the bracelet was just growing dimmer. Soon they couldn’t see anything in the jar but the dark gray smudge of the smoke.

 

Stiles took a half step forward, and the look on his face was so intense that Derek was afraid to look away from him. He was concentrating hard. Even without having lived the day four times, Stiles was giving this curse breaking thing his all. It made Derek’s heart swell with pride. He looked back at the jar, and in his mind he kept imagining the druid word inscribed on the bracelet. _Cosantóir. Cosantóir. Cosantóir. Do your job and protect. Protect. Protect._

 

Growing frustrated at the lack of change, Stiles bit his cheek and made a click-like sound of annoyance. The glass cracked up the side at the same moment the sound left his mouth and they all flinched. The smoke escaped through the new hole, quickly at first and then slower. After only a minute, they could see the bracelet once again. It took a minute because the jewelry was no longer shining. Now that the smoke was gone they could see that the cause of the break was the bracelet. It sat, snapped in half, at the base of the jar, right where the crack began.

 

Derek was the first to move, stepping forward to get a better look. The druid inscription was broken but still legible. However, there was something different about the bracelet itself. It did not shine like silver. In fact it looked dull. If Derek didn’t know better, he’d say it looked like iron.

 

Deaton was looking at the air, watching the last of the smoke dissipate. Only when it was gone did he dare to move. He held a hand out to Stiles, who mechanically offered his own hand in return. Before they could really touch, a spark shocked them both and they pulled away. Stiles waved his hand like he’d been burned, exaggerating the experience, and Deaton smiled.

 

“I think we may have cracked it,” he said. Then, looking cheeky, he nodded his head to the jar. “Literally.”

 

Stiles was staring at his hands, eyes wide, as though they would spark again on their own, but Derek was afraid to hope too much. All the signs were good, but only testing it would prove Deaton right or wrong. Stiles turned to Derek, excitement on his face and in his blood, but Derek held a hand up to stop any confession.

 

“Let’s head back to my place first,” he said. “Just in case it didn’t work, I want to be safely inside.”

 

“Bu-? But why?” Stiles asked, brow knit together in frustration at being denied his chance once again.

 

“Of all the times you died, the least painful was the time you died in your sleep,” Derek said and Stiles’ face fell in bittersweet sympathy. “In case we didn’t fix it, I want you someplace safe. Comfortable.”

 

Biting his cheek again, Stiles considered and rocked slightly on his feet. Finally he nodded and sighed. “Well, I can’t argue with that,” he said. “Alright. Let’s go home.”

 

And the use of the word ‘home’ in reference to his condo made Derek’s heart swell with love.

\-- -- -- --

 

Stiles did not confess when they walked in the door. He did not confess when Derek closed the lock or even when he met Stiles in the center of the room and hugged him. He did, however, kiss Derek. His hands found Derek’s face and held him steady as he planted kiss after kiss on his stupid werewolf lips. Then he frowned and pressed their foreheads together.

 

“The drive gave me time to think,” he said, voice unsteady. Derek did not fill the silence with the obvious question of ‘what?’ Instead, he waited and let Stiles set the pace. Eventually Stiles spoke, his voice quiet in the still air of the condo. “I’m scared.”

 

Now Derek did speak. “Of what?” he asked and caressed the nape of Stiles’ neck, running his fingers through the hair there. “You told me yesterday that you loved me and that you didn’t care if it got you killed. ‘It doesn’t change anything,’ you said.” Derek frowned slightly. “But I didn’t tell you back.”

 

“Tell me what?”

 

“It doesn’t change anything for me either.” Derek closed his eyes and let the scent of Stiles color everything. Stiles’ anxiety and excitement rolled into one and gave Derek’s stomach a pleasant sort of feeling – not quite butterflies, but definitely sweet. “If we failed today, I still love you. And I’ll wake up in the morning and go to Deaton and we’ll find another way. And if we fail again, I’ll wake up again and I won’t stop until we fix this. My feelings won’t change.”

 

When he opened his eyes, Stiles was staring straight into them with an intensity not unlike the way he’d urged the cursed bracelet to snap. Derek swallowed thickly and Stiles rewarded him with another kiss. They’d both thought a lot about their feelings for each other, Derek remembered. Four years, in fact. There was no way to break those feelings now.

 

Stiles squirmed under Derek’s touch and relieved himself of his button-up shirt. It flopped onto the large square of carpet in Derek’s living room and left Stiles in a t-shirt, but that too was beginning to ride up. Derek stalled the procession by grabbing Stiles’ hands and their kissing stopped. Breath coming in huffs, Derek shook his head.

 

“Stiles, it’s too soon,” he said.

 

“Is not,” Stiles argued. He released his shirt and grabbed Derek by the face with more force than probably necessary. “I’ve battled myself for four years, Derek. I’ve convinced myself to wait until I was older – until I was done with one milestone or another. I’ve talked myself out of it too many times. I’m done waiting.”

 

“Stiles-“

 

“I love you.” Stiles said the words and his heart only faltered a moment in anxiety over it. Then he said it again, heart steady. He got a soft smile on his face and lightened his grip. “I love you. I don’t want to die. I want to be with you. Can I move in?”

 

The absurdity of the question in light of the situation drew a hard laugh out of Derek’s chest. But he’d thought of that possibility too, hadn’t he? When he’d been ordering the bracelet and setting up the details; when he’d texted Stiles at college to see when he’d be visiting for the holidays; when they’d set up their lunch date late enough for Derek to get the bracelet first – hadn’t Derek been thinking about his future with Stiles?

 

He wanted to date him first, obviously, but they’d been friends for years. They’d hung out alone before. They’d saved each other’s lives. They knew what the other would order at fast food restaurants and which movies they liked to watch. They’d known each other at extremely low moments in both their lives. Hadn’t Derek thought about all of that in the last several weeks?

 

“Stiles, if you survive until dinner tomorrow, then sure. You can move in.”

 

Stiles jumped then, knowing Derek could hold his weight, and wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist. Derek caught him with very little effort and met him for the next round of kissing. Eventually, Derek walked them to the bed and laid Stiles down on it, covering his smaller body entirely with his own. They found each other’s lips and lost their clothes. They took their time, learning each other’s sensitive spots and how each curve of their bodies felt, and in the end they were laid out on the bed, Derek spooned around Stiles and holding him close. He could feel Stiles’ skin along the entire length of his body, and he’d never felt so close to someone before – because for the first time, he knew for certain that the person sharing his bed was not hostile, had no ulterior motives, knew him for what he was, and accepted him anyway.

 

“We fixed it, Derek,” Stiles murmured in the dark of the room. His voice was sleepy and slow. “It’s gonna be… good.”

 

Derek kissed the back of Stiles’ head before burying his face in the other’s hair. Even if he woke up in the morning alone, it felt good to hold Stiles so close right now. It felt good to be able to breathe in Stiles’ scent and know that, no matter what, he had someone who cared about him. Forever.

 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Derek whispered back. Because either way it was true. He’d find Stiles every morning, every day, for the rest of his life.


	6. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not my favorite fic of mine, but here's your completed Christmas gift, everyone.

Chapter 6

 

At seven a.m., Derek’s alarm clock buzzed and chimed, waking him up. He opened his eyes and blinked at the ceiling for a minute before rolling over and tapping the dismiss button. He stretched and popped his muscles, and took a deep, steady breath of the crisp morning air sneaking in through his partially cracked window.

 

He needed some pants.

 

The thought made him pause and he looked down to make sure he was right. Indeed, he was pant-less. He looked around the open space condo and spotted his phone by the couch. Jumping up, he rushed over and grabbed it from where it had fallen on the floor. The date and time blinked to life on the screen.

 

It was Christmas.

 

His heart raced and he took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. The day had not repeated. The. Day. Had. NOT. Repeated.

 

Calm. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. If it was Christmas, then where was Stiles? He listened to the sounds of the building and could make out the sound of his neighbor doing her morning zumba, another family already up and preparing for when their family would show up later, and… in his own condo… he could hear…

 

A heartbeat.

 

The toilet flushed and the sink turned on. A moment later, the door opened and Derek opened his eyes to watch Stiles walk out, clad only in his underwear. The pale man froze when he saw Derek there, standing in the middle of the room, clutching his phone like it was the only thing keeping him from falling to his death.

 

“It’s Christmas,” Derek murmured.

 

“Merry Christmas?” Stiles said, confused. He looked over Derek’s naked body with obvious approval and then the realization seemed to hit him. His eyes went wide as he looked at Derek’s face and then, just as abruptly, he was grinning. “Hey, guess what.”

 

“It’s Christmas?” Derek asked, not really thinking that was the answer.

 

Stiles shook his head and pointed at himself. “Not dead.” He sang it more than said it and wiggled his head as though to enhance the statement.

 

He didn’t have time to joke any further. Derek was on him before he could. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, holding him tight, and then lifted him off the floor. He was real and physical. He smelled the same. His heartbeat was strong.

 

“Down boy,” Stiles said, halfway to a laugh. “Heel!”

 

Derek laughed in his chest and set Stiles back on the ground. He’d let the dog jokes go this once. But he wouldn’t let Stiles go so easily. He cupped the sides of Stiles’ face and planted a kiss on his lips, then on his forehead, then back to his lips.

 

“We did it,” he said.

 

“Apparently,” Stiles agreed. He grinned wide and pat Derek on the chest. “I mean I told you I loved you like fourteen times last night and I didn’t suffocate in my sleep. Kinda bummed about the bracelet thing, but it’s better than dying, right?”

 

 “I’ll get you a better one,” Derek promised, hands running all over Stiles’ upper body. He felt out the other’s shoulders, his neck, his ears, and up into his hair. Stiles laughed at the touch, probably ticklish, but Derek was still taking in the fact that Stiles wasn’t dead.

 

Four times. Four times, he’d lived through Stiles dying. Until his last breath, he’d remember the way Stiles looked in the jeep that first time – all crushed and broken. He’d hate that landing in his building, unable to get the sight of Stiles’ blood in the carpet out of his mind. It would take a long time before falling asleep watching movies with Stiles didn’t make his heart jump in anxiety. But they’d finally done it. They’d broken the curse. They could move on – literally.

 

“Hey now,” Stiles complained without heat as Derek repeated his checking of Stiles’ body. He grabbed Derek’s wrists to stop his movement and gave a smart-aleck smile. “Calm down. It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” The smile became a full-on smirk. “I’m a druid now, didn’t you hear? I’ll just bless myself to be immortal.”

 

“Don’t,” Derek said, deadpan. “Knowing you, it’d accidentally work and then you’d be alive forever, sarcastic and insufferably proud.”

 

“Aww, don’t worry, Derek. I’d do it to you too.” He booped Derek on the nose and then laughed when Derek scrunched up his face in response. “I’m just kidding. Who’d want to live forever?”

 

He leaned in to give Derek a peck on the cheek once more and his heart rate sped slightly at the action – like he was still excited he was allowed to do that. Then he pulled away and motioned to the kitchen. “I’m gonna get started on Christmas breakfast. How ‘bout you put on some pants and meet me there?”

 

“Sure.” He’d nearly forgotten he was naked. But watching Stiles walk seemed far more important than clothes at the moment.

 

Finally, he moved into the bedroom and found his underwear and some new jeans. He’d wear the same as the day before, except they were sooty from the cruiser. As he buttoned the jeans, music began to play in the other room, and he sighed affectionately.

 

Stiles had turned on a Christmas radio station on his phone. The first song on was Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas”, just like Derek’s second Christmas Eve this year. And just like then, Stiles decided to sing it loudly and with flair. Since he wasn’t stuck in a car, he was actually dancing – albeit badly. Derek chuckled as he entered the large main room and saw him.

 

Before he could consider walking over to join Stiles, Derek’s pocket vibrated multiple times. When he pulled his phone out, he saw text messages from four people, all wishing him a Merry Christmas. He clicked on each one to make the notification go away but did not reply. He’d see most of the people he cared about at dinner, so texting back wasn’t important. Plus they all knew Derek and knew he didn’t text much to begin with.

 

A fifth text came in as he was finishing that. It was from Deaton. Color Derek surprised. He thought the vet texted even less than he did.

 

It said, _“Everything ok?”_

_“Everything good,”_ Derek answered. He looked up at Stiles, shimming his way around the kitchen, and felt his stomach knot pleasantly. Everything was so much better than ok. Stiles was alive and he’d be moving in soon. They had time for dating and arguments and holidays and Stiles learning about his heritage. Everything was… well not perfect. Life was never perfect. But it was as close as Derek dared hope for.

\-- -- --

 

The McCall house was, as it was every year, bedecked with lights and candles. Inside smelled like ham, yams, and green beans. Cinnamon cloves and pine needles were strategically placed around the lower floor to give the whole house a scent of Christmas. There was no underlying scent of mistletoe, though. Ever since Scott had been bitten and Stiles had learned how dangerous the plant was, he’d switched to fake mistletoe. No scent, no poison, but every bit as enforced when it came to kissing.

 

Derek usually showed up fashionably late, but now that he was with Stiles he had to show up early. Scott was surprised to see him, but not as surprised as he really should have been. Together, they all finished cooking and prepping the house for visitors. Derek was mostly in charge of setting the table and finding a movie channel on TV that would be marathoning Christmas movies all day.

 

By the time the rest of the guests arrived with their own potluck foods, Derek had almost had his fill of normal human socialization. At least, until Stiles sidled up next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. The contact comforted Derek and calmed his nerves, and he was able to greet Parrish, Lydia, Jackson, Ethan, and the sheriff with an adequate smile.

 

The sheriff was not surprised to find the two together. In fact, he gave Derek a knowing look and took him aside later to say “Thank you”. He meant for accepting Stiles, for being on the same page as him, and for loving him – Derek was sure. But to Derek it also meant ‘thank you for saving his life’, even though no one else knew what had happened. He accepted the comment carefully and gratefully.

 

“Surprised to see you crawled out of your cave so early,” Jackson remarked and got an elbow from Ethan for his trouble.

 

The twin smiled wider to make up for his partner’s snark. “I think he means, it’s good to see you, Derek. And we’re just really thankful for the invite. Without it, we’d just be alone in London for another year.”

 

“Not that anyone would want to come back to Beacon Hills,” Jackson amended. Ethan stepped on his foot this time and Jackson winced. “Except, obviously, for Christmas.”

 

“Obviously,” Derek agreed, a disapproving look leveled on Jackson. But today wasn’t the day for arguments, so he let the issue drop there.

 

Across the room, Stiles was greeting Allison and her father, but Allison quickly defaulted to Scott and Mr. Argent wasn’t interested in anything Stiles had to say. The other looked slightly put out about it, but regained his pep soon afterward when Scott called him over into his conversation with Allison. Derek meandered his way over too, tired of talking to other people.

 

When he walked up, Allison was handing Scott his present. It was an Argent family crest necklace, just like hers. Derek frowned at the idea, but Scott seemed to enjoy it. He slipped it over his head and grinned at her before giving her a kiss. In some weird way, Derek thought, maybe it meant an end to hunters like Gerard… at least in the Argent family.

 

“I have a gift for you too,” Scott said, all excitement. He turned and picked something up off the counter nearby. Then he handed the box to Allison. When she pulled off the top of the small box, she found a set of earrings in the shape of arrows. “They’re real silver,” Scott explained.

 

“Oh, Scott.” Allison sounded sweet and coo-y and Derek did his best to feel happy for them both. It wasn’t Allison’s fault who her family was. And she made Scott happy.

 

Scott helped Allison with the earrings while Stiles spoke. He laughed lightly. “Wow, what a Christmas,” he said. “Scott got a necklace. Allison got earrings. I got a bracelet. It’s jewelry all around this year!”

 

“You got a bracelet?” Allison asked, her eyes looking expectantly to Stiles’ wrist. She frowned when she saw nothing. “Where is it?”

 

Stiles held up a finger, mouth open to explain, but then he paused and frowned. “Um. It’s a… long story?” He glanced at Derek, eyes asking too many questions. Derek gave a tiny shrug. He didn’t care if Stiles told the others. They’d have to find out about Stiles being a druid eventually, after all. Stiles cleared his throat and shrugged. “Let’s just say it broke and I’ll explain the rest to you later?”

 

“Um? Okay?” Scott sounded skeptical, but he agreed and that’s what mattered. His lips broke into a small grin when he saw Stiles glance at Derek again. “Did Derek give it to you?” And then Scott was looking at Derek too.

 

Derek shrugged again. “Yeah. I’ll get him a new one when I can,” he said. Maybe he’d adjust it, though, now that he knew Stiles had some kind of magical spark in him.

 

“That’s so sweet, Derek,” Allison said, and she’d lost the coo to her voice. Derek assumed she wasn’t teasing him, but her tone was easy to read either way. She smiled at Stiles, expectant. “And what did you get Derek?”

 

Good question, Derek thought, and looked at Stiles with a slightly surprised look on his face. He hadn’t even wondered what Stiles would be getting him, since he’d been so focused on Stiles’ gift and then on saving Stiles from dying. In all the repeating days he’d spent with Stiles, the other had never mentioned a gift.

 

Pinned by all their stares, Stiles began to fidget. He frowned and then tried to smile and then frowned again. He put his hands together and drummed his fingers against each other. “You see,” he said. “The things is… I…” He laughed ironically. “I maybe… forgot to get him one?”

 

“What?” Scott exclaimed, looking aghast. He looked, actually, more upset about the news than Derek. Derek frowned, but Scott was disappointed on a whole new level. “But-! I thought you guys were gonna be steady now? How could you forget?”

 

No present didn’t really hurt Derek’s feelings at this point. Honestly, he was taking Stiles breathing as a gift. Taking a deep breath, Derek looked up at the ceiling and hoped the two of them wouldn’t argue long.

 

Stiles shushed him wildly and glared. “Keep it down, okay? First of all, Derek didn’t know you knew, so thanks for that. Secondly, I got so caught up in the how-to-confess thing that I just did, ok? I forgot.” He spun to face Derek, his face falling into regret. “I’m sorry. I’ll get you one tomorrow, okay? I didn’t mean to forget. I just-“

 

Derek shut him up by pulling him close and kissing him. In public. Allison gasped and Scott’s chemosignals said he found it very uncomfortable to watch his best friend making out with … probably anyone, but neither said anything. Derek pulled back once the muscles in Stiles’ shoulders had lost some tension. He smirked and pointed up, where some of Stiles’ hidden mistletoe was just visible by the ceiling fan.

 

“Oh,” Stiles said, voice breathy with shock and appreciation.

 

“Don’t worry about the present,” Derek said. “You gave me a gift yesterday when you confessed. And you gave me a gift this morning when you were breathing.”

 

“What?” Now Scott was really confused.

 

Derek shook his head and didn’t take his eyes off Stiles, who still looked amazed at what had happened. “Don’t worry about it, Scott. He’ll explain it to you later.”

 

He gave Stiles another quick peck on the lips before Ms. McCall called everyone to the dining room for food. Somewhere across the room, Jackson much have noticed the move, because he made a gagging noise and a comment about how gross PDA was. Ethan shut him up by making out with him until someone made a wolf whistle and Ms McCall raised her voice to call everyone’s focus back.

 

While everyone loaded up their plates, Derek heard a whisper between Allison and Scott. “I think Derek almost killed Stiles yesterday?” “You think that’s what they meant?” Beside him, even Stiles heard it, and he snorted while attempting not to laugh. They exchanged a knowing look and then Derek shrugged. Those two would know the truth soon enough.

\-- -- -- --

 

They scheduled Stiles to move in on New Year’s Eve, so they could start the year together. Technically Stiles still had another semester away at school, but he’d come home for weekend visits and holidays. Stiles calling his condo home still made Derek excited and he sometimes couldn’t keep from giving Stiles a quick kiss whenever it happened. He was pretty sure Stiles knew that, too, because he seemed to do it more frequently as they day went on.

 

A few of the guys offered to help move boxes, so Parrish, Scott, and the sheriff lugged things up stairs and in elevators to Derek’s condo throughout the day. Derek almost forgot anything terrible had happened just a week or so prior. Scott knew now. Stiles had told him on Christmas just before they left the McCall house. The sheriff still didn’t know anything, and part of Derek worried Stiles was using the change in house as an excuse to delay the reveal. But he didn’t say anything, yet, because he wanted to let Stiles move at his own pace.

 

They were almost done unloading the last car, which was mostly filled with boxes of clothes and blankets and unbreakable stuff now that Stiles’ furniture and collectibles had been moved in. Derek grabbed a big box labeled jackets and strolled back inside. He arrived just in time to see the elevator doors shut, and he let out a small sigh. He really didn’t feel like waiting around for it to come back down, so he turned and headed up the stairs. Six flights was nothing to a werewolf, and it wasn’t like he’d be running.

 

The first three flights were a breeze, and he only felt a slight burn in his legs from the constant movement. When he passed the fourth flight, he felt an odd, sour twinge in his chest and felt a little sick, but he couldn’t place why. He scented the air, trying to figure out if there was wolfs bane or mistletoe or, heck, mountain ash around, but he got nothing. Blaming it on the light exercise and a lack of lunch, he kept walking.

 

As he crested the fifth landing, he felt his stomach drop. Two girls were waiting for the elevator, chatting animatedly about a party they were going to that night. Derek’s eyes zeroed in on them, on their familiar faces, and then darted to the clean baseboard several feet behind them. His stomach dropped. For a moment he saw Stiles, splayed out and motionless on the ground.

 

The elevator dinged, picking the girls up on its way back to ground floor, and then Derek was alone. His chest felt too tight. His head rushed. It was just a memory of a day that got erased, he reminded himself, but it didn’t really help. Stiles was up in the condo, organizing. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t gone. He wasn’t-

 

“Derek?”

 

Stiles voice cut through the air and pushed control back into Derek’s lungs. He hadn’t realized he’d been panting. Pressing a hand to his chest, he leaned on the wall opposite where Stiles’ body had been on the second day. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, Stiles was descending from the sixth floor. Concern etched itself onto his face when he spotted his boyfriend.

 

“Dude, what happened?” he asked. His eyes glanced away at the box Derek had dropped without noticing, but then he was focused back on Derek.

 

He probably looked terrible. With Stiles in front of him, Derek was calm enough to recognize how panicked he’d become. He guessed he was paler than normal, and he probably looked like he’d had a heart attack with the way he was clutching his chest and his face was pinched. Derek took a deep breath to relax and beckoned Stiles closer. Stiles easily stepped into Derek’s personal bubble and the werewolf wrapped one arm around his shoulders.

 

“I’m alright,” Derek assured and took a long, silent breath of Stiles’ scent.

 

“You sure? Scott said your chemosignals were anything but. In fact, I’m pretty sure he used the word ‘terrified.’” Stiles wrapped one arm around Derek and brought his other hand up to cradle the back of Derek’s head. “What’s up?”

 

Of course Scott had been able to smell that. Derek smiled weakly. “Sorry. It’s just- This landing. This is where you-” He cleared his throat, unable to say the rest of the sentence. With a shake of his head, he said, “It’s just going to take some time to erase the feeling I get when I take the stairs now.”

 

“You’re an idiot,” Stiles chided lightly. He pulled away from Derek’s embrace and motioned to himself. “You’ve got me now. I’m your anchor or whatever, right? Just bring me with you when you walk up the stairs. Then I can remind you you’re hallucinating. It’s like my panic attacks, right? We’ll figure it out.”

 

Derek nodded and let out a long breath. He did feel much better now that Stiles was there in front of him. The landing didn’t seem so terrible. He bent down and lifted the box back into his hands. Stiles was still there when he stood back up. And that’s what he needed to see for awhile, wasn’t it? Stiles was alive and breathing, and he told Derek he loved him at least once a day just to prove the curse was really over. Stiles was probably right too. Derek just needed to walk the stairs with Stiles at his side for the foreseeable future – until the landing no long drew up visions of Stiles, crumpled and dead.

 

“Thanks,” he said. Stiles waved the idea away, his new bracelet clinking around his wrist.

 

It was still silver, but Deaton had worked with him on putting a new charm on it. Combined with Stiles’ gifts, Stiles could throw off the perception of supernaturals – and maybe even some normal humans – if he wanted to, so that he was essentially invisible. Stiles’ response had been ‘cool. Like in Doctor Who?’, but Derek didn’t understand the reference.

 

Stiles walked with Derek for the last flight of stairs and then they entered his condo… _their_ condo. While Derek had panicked on the stairs, the remaining boxes had been brought up, and now the others were cooling down in the kitchen with big glasses of water. They greeted Derek when he walked in, and Scott only looked politely curious. Derek nodded to him in thanks, but otherwise they didn’t talk.

 

There would be food soon, probably pizza, and then it would be just Stiles and Derek. They’d celebrate the new year and toast, and when they woke up in the morning, Stiles would still be there. Derek held on to that knowledge now. Stiles would still be there. And slowly, slowly, Derek would get over the nervous doubt that one day soon that statement wouldn’t be true.

 

Parrish called to order the pizza while the rest of them called out their preferences and then laughed at him trying to remember them all. Stiles paused his whole body after Parrish was done giving pizza specifics to the person on the phone. Then he turned and disappeared into the bedroom. The sheriff didn’t seem to notice, and if Scott did then he was being polite about it. Neither said anything about the odd behavior or about his continued absence. Derek was not so subtle. He allowed Stiles a long moment before following him into the bedroom.

 

He found Stiles digging around in a backpack, frustrated. “Everything alright?”

 

Stiles startled, almost falling over from his crouched position. The motion apparently jostled something in the bag too, because it was followed by Stiles letting out a soft cheer and standing up with his prize.

 

“Everything is great,” he announced. He beckoned Derek further into the room and then craned his neck to ensure they weren’t being spied on. “I got you a Christmas present. Slash New Year present. Slash moving in present.”

 

“Slash pizza present?” Derek asked. “Cause that’s what we were talking about when you left.”

 

“What?” Stiles looked affronted. “No. That would be stupid. You don’t even like pizza that much. No, I just suddenly remembered, and I don’t want to forget.”

 

Derek glanced back at the sound of the others opening boxes and unloading books onto Stiles’ bookshelves in the living room. Stiles’ gaze flickered to the door as well and he shifted from foot to foot. “Did you want to wait until they’re gone?” Derek asked, noting the nerves.

 

With a shake of his head, Stiles held out a jewelry box and Derek almost laughed. So everyone this year really was getting jewelry. Stiles got his bracelet. Scott got his necklace. Allison got her earrings. What was left for Derek?

 

Just as his fingers touched the box, Derek had a thought and he pressed his lips together. If Stiles had avoided all the jewelry people had already received this year, then he could only think of one other major form of jewelry. It made his heart skip a beat in anticipation.

 

He stared down at the tiny, velvety, black box and tried to imagine anything else that could be inside, but he could only think of one thing. In front of him, Stiles let out a breath of a nervous laugh.

 

“Dude. Just open it before I have a frickin’ heart attack over here,” he ordered.

 

Derek nodded absent-mindedly and popped the box open. Just as he’d expected, sitting in two holes inside the box was a pair of matching rings. They were bright – whiter than silver, with a black line in the middle. Derek lifted one out of the box and held it closer to his eyes. White tungsten. It was harder than precious metals, like the silver of Stiles’ bracelet, so it was a good choice for someone like Derek, who would be running around in the woods with it.

 

“If it’s too soon and weird, just let me know, and I can take them back. Or I can at least take mine back and you can keep yours. It’s your delayed Christmas present, after all.” Stiles bounced in place, trying to read Derek’s expression and failing.

 

“No,” Derek said, voice even and mellow. He glanced between the rings and realized he’d pulled Stiles’ out first. With a reassuring smile to ease Stiles’ nerves, he reached forward and took Stiles hand. Then he slid the ring onto Stiles’ finger and said, “We’ve both been thinking about the next step for a long time. I think they’re a good choice.”

 

Stiles’ face was flushed when Derek let go of his hand, and he stared down at the ring as though he hadn’t seen it properly before, even though he’d been the one to pick it out. He glanced back up at Derek when the other plucked the second ring from the box and held it out. When they locked eyes, Derek raised his eyebrows expectantly and wiggled the ring in his fingers. That made Stiles laugh a little and broke the tension in his body.

 

Grinning like a fool, Stiles took the second ring and then held Derek’s hand in his own. He slipped the ring on Derek’s hand and let out a whistle of amazement when it fit perfectly in place. “Damn. It’s like we’re getting married or something,” he said and shook his head. “Remind me to slow down, crazy. People are gonna think we had a Las Vegas wedding.”

 

“Maybe one day,” Derek mused and Stiles choked on his tongue. Derek smirked at the accomplishment and then tapped his ring against Stiles’. “They’re on the wrong hands. Anyway, don’t worry. People can say what they want, and we know how we feel.”

 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Stiles murmured and ran a hand through his hair. “I just keep thinking about all the dick comments Jackson’s gonna make when he notices.” With a groan, he ruffled his own hair and then clenched his hands tight. “No. Screw Jackson. You’re right. It doesn’t matter. I love you, so there.”

 

“That-a boy,” Derek teased and smoothed Stiles’ hair back into place. They kissed then and only kept it brief because they could hear the sheriff calling them. “Happy Christmas slash New Year slash moved-in day,” Derek murmured.

 

“Shut up,” Stiles said with a slight whine. “You’re embarrassing me.”

 

Then he scrambled back into the other room to help unload boxes before his dad could start shouting for him. Derek took his time following, his chest feeling full and his body relaxed. He glanced down at his new ring and smiled. If the charm on him held true and fate allowed it, he would gladly embarrass Stiles forever.

 

And move these rings to the proper hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading til the end! Belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
> 
> If you liked what you read, please consider leaving a comment! Comments are the life blood of writers! :)

**Author's Note:**

> If the desire sparks in you, you may draw art, write a mini-spin-off fic, translate this into another language, or read it as a podfic. My only conditions are that you give me credit for the original, link back to the original work, and comment with a link to wherever said fanwork is located so I can see it and leave my appreciation in return. Thanks!


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